


come around sundown

by Ghovls



Series: i see the moon [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, FFXV kinkmeme, Imperial!Prompto, M/M, MT!Prompto, Slow Burn, Spoilers, alternate universe where prompto is an imperial soldier, and where he suffers a lot but i'm not even sorry for it, because it pretty much follows the game's story....... with alterations ofc, gladnis in the background like yeeeeeahh boy, torture warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9638996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghovls/pseuds/Ghovls
Summary: Set in an alternate universe where Prompto is an Imperial soldier sent to escort Prince Noctis to Altissia for his wedding to Lunafreya. Follows the plot of the game with some liberties taken, so be aware of spoilers.





	1. minor arcana

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm filling a kinkmeme prompt, but I've never written longform/multichapter fic before so please bare with me? I really liked this idea and I don't wanna fuck it up.
> 
> Also, if it's okay... I wanna self promote my tumblr solely because I just started being active again and I really want my dash to be filled with MORE GOOD STUFF. So please hmu on tumblr so I can follow you: http://mvgitek.tumblr.com/ Also... if anyone is interested in Beta-ing, please send me a shout over there, too.

Another scowl from the prince's lips as he pressed his back against the warm, almost hot, bumper of the Regalia. Just their luck to finally get out of the city, only to have the car break down on them. Even worse, the heat of Leide was sweltering, rays of sun beating down on the dark pavement, attracted to the royal black he and his retainers wore.

Somewhere in the background, his advisor spoke evenly into his mobile phone, all the while Noctis raised a hand to block out the unforgiving rays of sun, to glance between the spaces of his fingers at a blue, clear sky. Honestly, the heat was going to make him pass out.

“D'you think this is some kind of omen?” a gruff voice from somewhere above him asked no one in particular.

 

* * *

 

Noctis had first heard the news on a day that had seemed so much like any other. Sure, tensions were strained between the Kingdom of Lucis and the Empire of Nifelheim, but the war had not quite reached the Crown City of Insomnia. Although much of his life, training, and education thusfar had been solely to prepare him for his duties and his crown, Noctis had not seen the effects of the war firsthand. Instead, it loomed over him as a warning, a reminder of what he needed to be and what was expected of him.

The conditions of the treaty was only the beginning of a long list of expectations for the Future King of Lucis.

Citizens of Insomnia seemed pleased, elated even, to hear that Prince Noctis Lucis Caelem was to be wed to the Lady Lunafreya Nox Fluret, former princess of Tennebrae and the youngest Oracle in history. The titles, the formalities. They all sounded very grand to someone on the outside, but to Noctis it seemed less than amicable. Luna was a childhood friend who he hadn't seen since he was twelve years old. The two of them were extremely close, but Noctis summed up their relationship to that of brother and sister. He loved Luna, but a marriage of convenience seemed as if it would spoil what they had. In his regular correspondence with her, the prince was open about his concerns, fears, and reluctance.

Lunafreya's prompt reply had been very much like her... Calm, compassionate, and mature (she had always been more grounded than the prince). Somehow, Luna managed to convey in her thin, elegant script that all would be well for both them and their homelands. Somehow, through pen and paper she had filled Noctis with the confidence to cross those bridges when they got to them and for now to worry just about what was best for Lucis.

On the day of his departure, Noctis would be brave. He told himself that he would do this for his father, for Luna, for his people.

The grand staircase outside of the Citadel seemed daunting, even if he'd already descended midway while flanked by his trusted advisor Ignis, and his appointed guard Gladiolus. Behind him, his father took careful steps downward, aided by his cane.

“Remember, wherever you go, the line of Lucis goes with you. Walk tall, my son.”

Those words had stuck with the prince, even long after he'd left the safety of his home.

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness.”

...

“Ahem. Your _Highness._ ”

Ignis' curt voice and sharp accent had finally roused Noctis from sleep. He hadn't remembered dozing in the back of the Regalia (which was still broken down on the side of the road), but Gladio and Ignis both stared at him with what looked like expectation, the latter holding open the door so that Noctis might be on his feet.

“As Your Highness can see,” Ignis continued cautiously as Noctis emerged from the vehicle, doing his best to appear awake and alert, even though he had no idea what the hell was going on or what he was supposed to be looking at. His advisor's supplied explanation, coupled with the appearance of a stranger, decked from head to toe in Imperial Armour did wonders to drive the last remnants of sleep from the prince.

“Our Imperial escort has arrived.”

Noctis blinked, glancing between Ignis and Gladio, gaze lingering on the Shield for just a moment longer while he muttered his distaste for the agreement under his breath. He would have offered up his own little grumbles of agreement if his attention hadn't been caught by the voice behind the armour. Distorted slightly by the metal plating, it sounded as if it belonged to someone much younger than the prince would have expected.

“Prince Noctis,” the soldier greeted with a slight, almost hesitant bow and the prince watched, bewildered as he lift his gloved hands and placed them on either side of the helmet, effectively removing it.

“... My name is Prompto Besithia,” he continued, shaking out a shock of blond hair as he lowered the helmet, trapping it between his forearm and canted hip. His free hand moved to push his damp hair from his face-- clearly, the heat had gotten to him too and Noctis didn't miss the beads of sweat rolling leisurely down freckled features.

More than anything, Noctis was... surprised? He was honestly expecting someone older? Maybe someone more imposing? Someone like Gladio's father, perhaps? Instead, here stood a boy who looked too slight to hold up the armour on his shoulders, who looked minutes away from succumbing to heat stroke. Either way, Noctis was stricken, too busy trying to pinpoint his feelings than to actually listen to the words coming out of the boy.

“I'm to accompany you and your party to Accordo where you're to meet with and be wed to Lady Lunafreya, but... Uh...”

 _Prompto_ was already moving forward, forgetting the formalities, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on the Regalia. On instinct, Ignis and Gladio put themselves between the prince and the soldier, a gut reaction which pulled nothing but a loud, breathy laugh from the soldier. He turned on his heel, armour clanging as he did so, facing the royal entourage and shrugging his shoulders.

“H-hey, hey... Don't worry about me. I'm not gonna touch the prince,” he insisted. “I'm just here to get him from point A to point B, but it looks like we're not going anywhere.” Prompto jerked his thumb towards to the Regalia, “with your car troubles. Do you have a repair kit? I'm pretty confident I can get us back on the road in no time.”

Noctis, still speechless up until now gently pushed past his retainers to get the trunk open, ushering Prompto over. “Yeah,” he replied, feeling as if he'd been holding in a deep breath for a very long time. “Ignis, there's one in the trunk, right?”

 

 


	2. kindling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr because i need to follow cooler blogs: mvgitek.tumblr.com

Noctis hung back with Gladio while Prompto got to work on the car, which was taking longer than any of the four would have liked. Ignis stood by, handing the Imperial boy tools as he requested them, speaking politely and inquisitively in a way only that Ignis could. No doubt, the tactician aimed to garner as much information as he could from the Imperial envoy without treading too far from comfortable conversation. After all, the three of them were stuck with Prompto for the remainder of their journey and they would all have to make the best of it-- Noctis doubted that any of them would be looking forward to walking on eggshells for the entire trip.

“What d'you think?”

Gladio handed Noctis a bottle of water, a welcome reprieve from the desert climate. It was much too early for Noctis to have any sort of impression of Prompto. Even if travelling with a Niff made him uneasy, he couldn't help but focus on his features, his build, his age. He chastised himself for finding the vibrance in his blue eyes, the pattern of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“I just--” Noctis took the offered drink and helped himself to a swig. “He can't be older than me, if not younger.”

The prince glanced to his guard and wiped his mouth with his forearm, at a loss for words. Once Prompto had finally shed the rest of his armour, making a comment about first impressions, Noctis had really taken a look at him. He was pale, too pale to be subject to such heat, lean muscles defined beneath tight burgundy fabrics, though his trousers were loose and slung low on hips, held fast with a black belt. Bare shoulders were decorated with freckles, hands concealed with gloves he'd produced from the Regalia's trunk buried deep within her workings under the hood.

Beneath the decorum was a regular boy, just as Noctis was once the titles were removed from the equation, but that didn't mean he didn't notice the holsters strapped to Prompto's thighs. Two silver pistols hung ready at each hip, catching the sunlight with each move the boy made.

“They do things different up north,” Gladio continued with a solemn nod once he recognized Noctis' concern. “Kids start training pretty young, though it's not something you really see any more since most of their forces are MT nowadays.”

“Right.” Noctis replied with a nod, wondering what it was that set Prompto apart. Then again, he supposed that Nifelheim couldn't exactly send a mindless Magitek soldier to babysit him. The thought made him shudder and so he took another gulp of clear water to mask his discomfort. How could he be a king if he not only feared, but was ignorant of his enemies?

Ignis would have made a remark about Prompto's presence being a learning experience.

After a few minutes of tinkering, the Imperial finally came up for air, having been elbows deep in the Regalia for almost an hour. Exasperated, he huffed out a breath and peeled his gloves away, unceremoniously shoving them into his back pocket. He straightened up, wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaving a trail of grease there in the process. Seemingly unaware of his folly, the boy was now concentrated solely on Ignis, who he stared at with his mouth agape in a sort of grateful surprise as the adviser handed him an unopened water bottle, insisting that he stay hydrated as long as they were travelling through the drier parts of Leide.

“So. It's a bit worse than I thought,” Prompto and Ignis now stood within earshot of both Noctis and Gladio, the former somewhat sheepish and unable to keep still. His boots crunched sand and asphalt as he rocked on the balls of his feet, hardly looking Noctis in the eye.

“I'm not familiar with Insomnian technology,” he began, maintaining an apologetic tone. “Hopefully, she'll get us to the next rest stop, your Highness but there's a part that needs to be changed ASAP and I don't really have the skills.”

Prompto looked as though he might say more, but Ignis interjected by clearing his throat, pushing his glasses up the slender bridge of his nose. “Hammerhead lies only an hour's drive to the west. Thanks to Mr. Besithia, we should make it before nightfall.”

 

* * *

 

The four of them _did_ make it to Hammerhead before nightfall, with enough time to meet with both Cid and his granddaughter Cindy, who had clicked her tongue in disappointment at first, but didn't actually seem to be blaming them for whatever had happened to the car.

“How'd ya'll even make it this far?” She asked, peering beneath the hood in disbelief. There was silence at first, until Noctis had gestured to Prompto, who had been notably silent since they'd arrived, and now the prince had understood why.

The Imperial envoy seemed transfixed, looking at Cindy as if he'd never seen another human being before. So when she did approach him, throw an arm around him and stroll back towards the Regalia so they might inspect it together, it seemed as if he wasn't going to stand another moment upright.

“You've got a heap of talent fer someone who's self-taught,” she praised, clapping Prompto on the shoulder and leaning close. “Now tell me where a boy like you learns his way 'round an engine special as hers.”

Prompto responded meekly at first, but apparently his courage eventually blossomed because Cindy was now insisting that the Prince and her guard 'take a load off' in the caravan, as it was going to take her until tomorrow to finish with the Regalia. With that, she whisked Prompto away to the garage, and Noctis had no idea why the thought of that bothered him so much.

 

* * *

 

 

Even with his belly full of Ignis' cooking and a long day behind him, Noctis couldn't sleep. He would have blamed it on the nap he'd taken earlier in the car, but taking multiple naps a day had never _really_ stopped the prince from sleeping even more. As he sat up in his bunk, Noctis politely pretended that he didn't see Ignis and Gladio squeezed into one of the single beds and tasted something sour on his tongue when he realized the bunk meant for Prompto lay empty.

“So much for my envoy,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slipped from the caravan.

Noctis was greeted with the unfamiliar noises of nightfall in the countryside. The buzz of the rest stop's yellow lights mixed with the chirping of crickets. In the distance, he swore he could hear the yowl of some great beast -- a daemon perhaps – and had to remind himself that the light would keep anything dangerous at bay.

The night air was cool and Noctis wrapped his jacket around himself, taking his first steps out from the caravan and being greeted by something surprising.

There was Prompto, sitting in the dirty plastic furniture. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn earlier, the smears of grease hardly visible in the dark, though his pale skin seemed to glow in the lamplight. Noctis would have thought he'd be cold wearing that sleeveless shirt of his, but the soldier seemed content. His black leather gloves were tossed carelessly onto the table in front of him, and bare hands held a camera. He was flipping through photos, apparently.

Noctis cleared his throat and made his presence known. For some reason he felt as if he'd won; Prompto was here and not over in the garage with Cindy.

“Uh. Hi.”

He raised one hand and crossed the pavement, plastic scraping along as he pulled out a chair while asking if he could join Prompto.

“O-Oh. Your Highness.”

The soldier abandoned his camera and snatched his gloves. It must have been a trick of the light, but Noctis could have sworn he'd seen something marring the boy's wrist. A tattoo perhaps? Tattoos were common in Lucis, so maybe they were part of Niff fashion, too? Either way, Prompto had seemed embarrassed by the mark and was already scrambling to offer up another bow, much to Noctis' dismay.

“Hey. It's cool,” Noctis provided with an easy, casual air. “You don't have to do that whenever I show up, and you can call me Noctis. What's that?” He nodded towards the camera.

Caught off guard by the prince's demeanour, it took Prompto a moment to re-calibrate. He wasn't expecting the Future King of Lucis to be so informal, so... _normal._ Everything he knew about the Lucii's lineage had come from both books and spoken lecture. The soldier's childhood was unconventional at best, and he'd been brought up to be exactly that. An Imperial Soldier. Maybe Lucian Princes were brought up to just be regular men?

“This?” Prompto clutched the device more tightly, turning his head in a way that made the buzzing lights cast long shadows across his white features. “It's a camera. You know, I don't...” He paused, thinking for a moment whether or not there would be consequences for speaking so freely here. “I haven't left Gralea before.” _and I don't know if I'll ever leave it again after this_ , he would have added aloud if he was _truly_ going to be candid.

“Oh.” A small smile made it's way to Noctis' lips. There was something... endearing about that. About Prompto wanting to take photos of his trip.

“Well, make sure you get our good sides-- The guys and I.”

He yawned then, stretched and then waved a hand in Prompto's direction, bidding him goodnight.

Prompto still stood there and watched, eyes forced from the LED screen to look at Noctis as he turned away to head back up to the caravan, disappearing behind the screen door. He couldn't help but notice that even in the unflattering yellow light, Noctis maintained hos own glimmer. He lit the night sky with something regal, something unattainable. Something stirred inside the blackness within him, the sick, the rotting, and disease. No matter where he went or whoever he served, Prompto would always be something lesser. Something inferior.


	3. veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So. I don't normally write long form fic, so as you can see it looks like we're gonna have this pattern of short chapters and frequent updates. I hope that's cool, because that seems to be what I'm most comfortable doing.
> 
> Thanks so much to those who've read, left kudos, and commented! I really appreciate it since this is 100% new to me.
> 
> And a big thanks to the anon who originally made this prompt on the kinkmeme. I'm sorry I'm not following it to a T, but I hope you're liking it so far! I've got some exciting plans!

During breakfast the next morning, Prompto was nowhere in sight. When Noctis inquired, Ignis had responded that the blond had risen early to run, and hadn't really eaten all that much. Gladio, who sat across from them both gave an approving nod from behind the cover of his book, finishing off the last of his breakfast with gusto.

“Good on him,” he commented, as if the two of them already shared some sort of camaraderie based on the sole idea that they both liked to work out. If Noctis didn't know any better, he would have assumed that was enough for Gladio to find Prompto worth his approval, but of course that would never be the case. No matter how slight and unassuming he'd turned out to be, Prompto was still born and raised in enemy territory.

“I talked to him a little bit last night,” the prince supplied as he took his seat. Noctis' features were still heavy with sleep, but he'd made a point of fixing his hair before exiting the caravan. Now, he spoke around a mouthful of toast, earning a long suffering sigh from Ignis and a pointed look in Gladio's direction.

The larger man shrugged, something of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he hid behind his book. Etiquette was Ignis' problem, but he'd probably be in trouble later for not backing up the adviser.

“--On his wrist, he's got a tattoo,” Noctis continued, swallowing. He gestured to his own wrist, tapping it with a slender finger, thoughtful. “He seemed pretty embarrassed about it. D'you think it's as bad as Gladio's?”

Noctis laughed, and Ignis couldn't help but chuckle.

“Perhaps,” he replied eventually, “but as it were, it would be best to keep personal matters to ourselves. He isn't our friend, Highness. Merely a compromise.”

Ignis' words hit Noctis with unexpected weight. Although their conversation last night was brief, the prince couldn't shake the way his voice sounded when he talked about leaving the city; the earnest he'd shown while pouring over his photo collection, brow creased slightly and casting long shadows over his concentrated expression.

He was put-off by the idea of travelling with someone he hardly knew.

* * *

 

It was true that Prompto had eaten far less of his share than the rest of the group, but that didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed the meal, or forgotten to thank Ignis to the best of his abilities for cooking during mealtimes. The soldier couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a real meal cooked especially for him and those he was meant to share it with. The thought of actually sitting down with the others and sharing a conventional breakfast had made him uncomfortable, however so he'd taken the liberty of excusing himself for a run. Besides, he had to report back to Gralea at some point via radio with an update on the prince's location.

As they drove away from Hammerhead, tucked safely into the Regalia's plush seats, Prompto realized he was loathe to say goodbye to Cindy. Her smile had been dazzling, the sway of her hips almost as hypnotic as the way her hands worked around the innards of their vehicle. The soldier hadn't really thought about... _girls_ at length-- there wasn't really room for that considering how he'd been raised. Most importantly though, Cindy had praised him, and complimented his work. He wondered if maybe _that_ was the reason he'd been hooked. Sure, she was beautiful and clearly intelligent, but Prompto hung off of her words back at the garage like he'd been starved for something he'd never tasted.

He shook off the thought, feeling heat rise to his cheeks when he realized how inappropriate he was being. He had a job to do here; a job that he absolutely could. Not. Fuck. Up.

There was so much riding on this, so much riding on _him._

“Ah. You can smell the sea,” Ignis chimed, effectively breaking Prompto's trance. The soldier took a breath, inhaling salt and feeling the gust coming off the shore tease his hair out of its usually style-- he didn't mind. Gralea was located so far inland that until he'd made the trip over to Lucis, Prompto had never even been close to the sea and so he reached for his camera.

“Nice,” Noctis commented lazily, already half-dosing in the back seat beside Gladio. He stretched his arms high and raised himself up in his seat, deciding to perch atop the headrest for a better taste of the breeze. Prompto twisted in his seat to look, helpless. Behind him sat an unruly young man at the end of his teenage years, careless as the breeze that tussled black hair, eyes the steeliest blue. There was no crown prince. There was no marriage of convenience, there were no politics, treaties or Imperial envoys.

In his usual aloofness, Noctis flung a wink in Prompto's direction, as if punishing him for staring too long.

“What,” he asked, teasing. “You've never been to the beach?”

Prompto's eyes narrowed slightly and he snapped back, surprising the entire company.

“No. But I know better than to go there dressed up in my funeral best.”

Noctis stared, mouth agape while Gladio's shoulders shook with a bit of a laugh. For that, Noctis aimed a futile punch at the larger man's shoulder once he'd managed to compose himself. “Shut up. You're wearing black, too.”

Satisfied, Prompto mimicked Noctis and stretched his arms high to take in the sun. Noctis begrudgingly explained that black was a royal colour from his place in the back seat-- a chaste taste of freedom.

Upon reaching the Quay, Noctis insisted that they all take a picture with Prompto's camera. After much shuffling around the issue, Prompto finally agreed on a seaside backdrop with Angelguard in the background. He was about to snap the picture when Noctis scoffed, demanding that Prompto turn on the self timer and get his ass in the shot.

After their photo op, the mood slightly soured. Ignis returned from the pier to inform the party that the boats had all been barred for travel due to Imperial lockdown, something to do with the ceasefire. Even Prompto, who shook his head in disbelief and showed off every bit of paperwork he had on his person could not grant them acceptance.

“I'm envoy to the prince,” he'd explained for the umpteenth time, putting on the same voice and posture he had when he'd first approached the Crownsguard and their charge. “I implore you. It's of utmost importance that His Highness makes it to Altissia to take part in the wedding ceremony. This is a matter of _war_.”

Even as he tried, Noctis could see the strain under his militant facade. This was important to Prompto, too apparently.

Finally willing to give up, the four cut their losses and turned away from the pier, Gladio suggesting that they wait it out for a day before making any more decisions. “The embargo might not last,” he explained. “And if it does, we'll think of something.”

In the meantime, Prompto fiddled with his radio, attempting to contact Gralea and make alternate arrangements oddly enough, he couldn't find a working signal and was about to curse their luck when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Out of luck, aren't we?”

A man dressed much too warmly for this kind of weather approached, his boots heavy on the wooden docks, heavy swaths of grey fabric billowing around his form. His grin, a cunning predator's framed by wild mane and amber eyes that might just devour the prince who hardly paid him any heed.

“Who wants to know?” Came Noctis' impudent scoff, but anything else he might have said was lost, for Gladio and Ignis were now between the prince at the stranger just as they had done when Prompto had first introduced himself.

“Ah, why not ask your _new friend_?

The man tipped his head towards Prompto, who had abandoned his radio and now stood at attention, head held high even if his shoulders sagged slightly.

“Your Highness, Prince Noctis. This is Chancellor Ardyn Izunia of the Niflheim Empire” Prompto seemed to mask his surprise quite well, for there was no offhanded comment or reprimand from the man. He cleared his throat and gestured towards his companions. “Chancellor, sir. There seems to be a mistake, I was instructed to--”

The Chancellor hushed Prompto with a grandiose wave of his hand, sweeping over to cross the distance between them and producing something from his pocket.

“Unfortunately,” he all but cooed. “The boats are beyond my abilities. I can however, give you this. I'm sure it will come in handy during your travels. And I don't expect anyone to be answering that radio of yours anytime soon. I'm afraid the empire cannot spare any more resources at the moment, not with the treaty signing tonight. So,” he paused and when he next pronounced Prompto's name, it seemed to leave a bad taste on his tongue.

“Prompto. You'll have to be resourceful, put all of that _training_ to use.”

The way he spoke made Noctis shudder, and something akin to anger flared inside him at the way he moved so close to the slight boy, going as far as to touch his face, delicately and precisely, in a way that made the prince's skin crawl as if _he_ was the one having his personal space invaded. The feeling only worsened when he watched as Ardyn leaned in to whisper something into Prompto's ear, tilting the boy's jaw to accommodate himself.

“Sir...”

Prompto was still doing his best to keep composed, but there was something in the way his voice cracked, the way his eyebrows knit together with growing concern that did little to quell the flames licking at Noctis' gut.

Once the ordeal was over and Ardyn took his leave, the four of them checked into the Gauldin resort, but not without Gladio grumbling something about preferring to camp.

Prompto tried not to appear disheveled when Ignis pulled him aside, and Ardyn's presence here had him reeling sharply enough to show the advisor their newly acquired paperwork without thinking twice over whether or not it was a good idea.

“This seems to grant us permission to travel through Imperial checkpoints set up at Cauthess, nearing the disc. Why on earth...?”

Ignis deliberated over the paperwork without much help from Prompto, who merely shook his head and asked for permission to leave, again not realizing that he was addressing Ignis as a superior officer. He left the documents in the bespectacled man's care and wandered off quietly, through their hotel room and onto the private deck reserved for guests. The sun was setting over the water, making it's surface shine. It was beautiful and new to Prompto, but he couldn't even appreciate it now.

Exasperated, the soldier leaned heavily on the rail and pulled out his camera, scrolling through the photos until he reached the one of the four of them on the dock from this morning. A vacation. That's what it looked like. Prompto looked between three smiling faces and his own reluctant expression. Even with the comforting weight of Noctis' arm around his shoulder, Prompto still seemed as if he wanted out of the frame.

He contemplated jumping into the sea and letting himself sink, but Noctis' voice startled him out of his fantasy.

“Hey. You alright?”

Noctis hadn't been able to help it. Prompto had looked positively ill as he stood before the chancellor. They might have not been friends, but that didn't mean Noctis lacked compassion.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah,” Prompto replied, unconvincingly. He pushed away from the rail and pocketed his camera. Noctis watched, either not completely fooled, or just enraptured by the gorgeous sunset stretching out behind the lowly soldier in his way.

“That Chancellor guy is a dick.”

There was a nonchalance in his voice that made Prompto nearly throw up with anxiety. A future king couldn't just call the chancellor of his enemy nation a dick so offhandedly. Or maybe he could? He was royalty, right? He _could_ technically do whatever he wanted.

“Uhm...”

Prompto couldn't bring himself to agree, or even disagree. He exhaled deeply, watching Noctis join him by the railing to watch the sunset, too. The smell of the sea had mixed with his faint, earthy cologne. Ever since they'd had a chance to shower, neither of them smelled like the dirt or sweat from the desert anymore.

“A-aren't you worried, Noctis? About getting to Altissia in time?”

The prince didn't look his way, just tipped his head and smiled somewhat.

“Nah. We'll figure something out. Luna and I have been writing back and forth, so I'll just let her know I'll be late. I was excited to see her, but it's been twelve years. What's a few more days?”

At that, Prompto couldn't hide his surprise. “Twelve years?” He asked, “I thought you two were close.”

Again, Noctis exuded nothing but casualties, as if the weight on his shoulders amounted to nothing.

“We are, and I love her, but... Like a sister. You know?” He didn't.

With that, the prince's jaw clenched somewhat. His lips pursed and he stared hard at the scenery before them. For the first time, Prompto thought that he saw something crack. Maybe the wedding was really too much? Maybe there were some aspects to being royalty that didn't always come on silver platters held up by doting servants.

The soldier felt guilty now, he felt it tighten his throat and strangle his voice when he next attempted to speak. Soon, Noctis would have much bigger problems than and arranged marriage, and the worst part was that there was nothing Prompto could say or do to prevent it, despite knowing. Noctis' entire world was going to change overnight. This was much bigger than one Imperial Soldier escorting a prince to his wedding.

“I'm sorry,” he provided anyway. Noctis would think that he was referring to his upcoming nuptials.

The prince laughed, clapping him on the back and shaking his head. “It's no big deal,” he replied with good nature. “It's my princely duty and all. I'm just glad you're alright, Prompto.”

 


	4. betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Shit gets good now, I guess?

Prompto couldn't sleep.

Ardyn's whispers still resonated within him, the feel of his mocking breath against the shell of his ear. If the chancellor was telling the truth, Insomnia would fall tonight while the prince and his retainers dreamt peacefully in plush beds, nestled on the tranquil shores of Gauldin Quay.

The soldier remained out on the deck long after Noctis had retired, fidgeting, worrying. He moved from the rail to the chair, then stood up once more to pace the length of polished wood, the gentle lapping of waves and miles of serene ocean doing nothing to soothe him. He wished he'd brought his pistols out, perhaps the familiar motion of cleaning his weapons might lull him into temporary calm, but instead his fingers fidgeted at his sides, useless just like the rest of him.

He turned to the windows, knowing the other three slept soundly inside. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he grew. His guts coiled and twisted almost painfully as if his body meant to reject them, Lightheadedness hit him like a wall and caused him to stumble back in the direction of the railing. White knuckled, Prompto bent at the waist, clutching the front of his shirt with a pitiful groan, afraid to open his mouth too wide for fear of what might spill out.

" _Why are you worried?_ " The voice alone applied pressure to the base of his skull. The ache had started out dull, but it was spreading slowly, all-consuming and vying for Prompto's attention, dragging his thoughts away from any semblance of compassion or sympathy, choking him both literally and figuratively, bending his mind and refocusing it onto the task at hand.

"Ngnnh..." The solider moaned, unable to help it as he started to retch. He gripped the rail and heaved, spoiling moonlit waters with his most terrible secrets, coughing up something vile and full of sin. It burned coming up, but Prompto couldn't help it anymore than he could stop shaking, frantically assuring between bouts of vomiting that he could do this, that he deserved to be alive and he would prove it.

The Six must have shown pity, for by some mercy the ordeal didn't last very long. Eventually Prompto was able to steady his breathing and drag himself upright, argue with himself and convince whatever lay dormant in his bloodstream that he hadn't forgotten who he was-- what he was. How could he forget? His father would never allow it, the chancellor even found amusement in calling him by a given name.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and it came away pitch black and oily. The soldier felt calmer now, however, his panic subsiding into an unnatural silence. In the end, he actually felt _good_. Sometimes a reminder had to hurt in order to be effective.

* * *

 

That morning, Noctis watched as Prompto outfitted himself with his holster. He stood near the bright windows, pale skin and fair hair almost translucent, illuminated by the daylight. Practiced fingers handled the two deadly weapons, sliding each of them into place with ease. He still wore his gloves, infuriatingly masking his tattoo. The prince was so entranced that when Gladio burst into the room, nearly blowing the door off its hinges, he jumped nearly a foot off of the bed he'd been sitting on, heart hammering staccato rhythm in his chest.

"You _**KNEW**_!" The Shield roared. All of a sudden Prompto's feet no longer touched the ground and Gladio's massive forearm crushed the soldier's throat between itself and the window, Noctis swore he could hear the glass threaten to buckle under the force-- unless the pathetic rattling was really Prompto's windpipe.

"What's going on?" Noctis voice was gruff, laden with sleep yet still managing to make demands. However, before Gladio could answer, Ignis calmly stepped inside the room and handed the prince the morning's tribune.

"It's in all the papers," he offered solemnly as Noctis' steely eyes scanned the headlines with growing disbelief.

** INSOMNIA FALLS **

The words were there in stark black ink, mocking him with their clarity. Their force knocked him from his feet, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress until he was forced to sit.

"Noct, just say the word and I'll wring this guy's traitorous little neck."

Gladio's rumbling had Noct's attention. He'd nearly forgotten about Prompto, still pinned and helpless, gasping as he was crushed beneath Gladio's strength. Anger was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt, something worse than despair had ran cold fingers down his spine. In that moment, seeing the light leave Prompto's eyes might have been gratifying, but all Noctis could really think of was the sickly expression on Prompto's face after Ardyn had whispered to him.

"He knew, but he had nothing to do with it," Noctis concluded with a firm nod, waiting for Gladio to obey his order and let Prompto go. He didn't even watch as the soldier collapsed to a heap on the floor, gasping and boneless. No, Noctis couldn't watch, because at that moment he was overcome by grief for his people, for his country, and for his father.

* * *

 

"Noctis, I know you're upset, but now is the time to focus. You need to think clearly."

Ignis handed the prince a cup of cool water and bid him to drink, a comforting hand on his shoulder. The adviser had suggested they plan their next move carefully and outside of Prompto's earshot. It wasn't ideal, but now the three of them stood in their room, with Gladio's hulking frame pressed firmly against the bathroom door, where Prompto was locked inside, gathering himself and ordered to wait.

"Clearly, the empire harboured these intentions all along," Ignis continued, "the presence of an imperial envoy was merely a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security."

From his side of the room, Gladio scoffed. "Sure as hell worked, hooking us up with that timid little thing."

"Ah, yes. Prompto. There is something that doesn't quite add up. When he first introduced himself, I could have sworn his surname was familiar to me. Only now has it dawned on me that our envoy is related to Versatael Bestithia, once a famed medical doctor and now involved in the development of Magitek Troopers. Why he would send his son to us, I can't deduce, but it does explain the chancellor's familiarity with him, though hardly what he was doing here in the first place."

Noctis brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply, eyes fixated over the rim of the glass as if he could see through Gladio and into the other room.

"I don't like the chancellor," he surmised, and received silent agreement from both sides of the room.

"One thing though, Iggy," Gladio began. "Why go through all the trouble of sending Noctis away? Keeping him out of the city kept him safe, why was the wedding meant to take place somewhere else?"

"Ah. The wedding's location were terms set by His Majesty. King Regis must have..." Ignis trailed off once he realized what he might have been suggesting. His features softened as he cleared his throat, glancing to the prince.

"He must have known he was going to die," Noctis finished dryly, knuckles white around the glass he was holding. "Forfeiting all those lives just to save mine, huh?"

"Noct, don't. We don't know the whole story yet."

An uncomfortable silence blanketed in the room while the prince's retainers waited for him to collect himself.

"But it didn't even matter," Noctis said weakly, gesturing helplessly to where Prompto was locked up. "They probably sent Prompto along to off me in my sleep. Now that they have the crystal, now that Luna and dad are... gone, what do they have to fear?"

A weary sigh escaped Ignis, a rare sound from the usually composed advisor. From his back pocket he produced the papers Prompto had received earlier from Ardyn and ran a gloved finger over the sharp corners.

"That doesn't explain why the chancellor so graciously bestowed paperwork granting three Lucian citizens past the blockades in Duscae... On the condition that we're accompanied by none other than Prompto Bestithia."

Quiet overcame them once more, a silent decision already made. Without further hesitation, Gladio moved away from the wall and unlocked the door, making sure when he opened it, that he blocked the Imperial's view of Noctis.

The soldier's expression was imploring, blue eyes pleading with Gladio for the time of day, even though he knew the Shield had also lost a father today.

"I have a job to do." His voice was raspy, scratching against the walls of his bruised throat. "My orders are to bring Prince Noctis to Lady Lunafreya, no matter the cost."

* * *

 

Phone calls were made and the course was eventually plotted. Much to Gladio's relief, most of the Crownsguard had made it out-- along with his younger sister Iris. They were taking refuge in Lestallum, a few days' drive from here, but Cor Leonis-- captain of the guard, had requested that the party make a stop near Hammerhead first before meeting with Iris. Apparently he was to fulfill one of the King's final requests.

The air was tense, even as the group parked the Regalia and continued on foot, boots crunching the dirt beneath them. Ignis and Gladio made a point of putting their bodies between Prompto and Noctis while they walked, the former's attention solely devoted to keeping an eye on the prince, while Gladio kept a wary pace with their Imperial tag-along.

Cor was waiting for them by the mouth of a large structure, which Ignis in his infinite wisdom explained was actually a royal tomb erected to house one of Lucis' former kings or queens.

"Your father wanted you to be protected, so that someday you could have the strength to protect others," Cor explained after they'd stepped inside. "From today forward, you will carry the line of Lucis along with you. You will accept the blessing of your ancestors."

What Prompto had seen that day, he wouldn't forget. Noctis had been quiet and seething for Cor's entire speech, still unwilling to believe that he was worth the sacrifice his father had made. And yet all of that seemed to melt away when Noctis requested the first blessing of many. The air around them was alight, teeming with magic as the weapon recognized Noctis, his own royal blood pulsing through his veins with an eagerness to seal the pact.

The prince's eyes shone red with a crystalline glow, he looked regal and powerful and perhaps the kings of old spoke to him then, for after the ritual was over and the humming in the air had ceased, Noctis seemed to have found acceptance and resolve.

Prompto had never seen anything like it, and he told Noctis so that night at camp. Cor had left them to join Monica on business he was reluctant to discuss in Prompto's presence and the party had begun their journey to Lestallum.

* * *

 

Once night had fallen, they had made the decision to set up camp to avoid any daemons. Everyone but Prompto had retired for the night, safe inside the tent. The blond had thought himself alone, warmed by the dying fire and soothed by silent moonlight, only until a rustling from the tent caught his attention.

"Noctis," he greeted, unable to hide his surprise. "You should go back to--"

The prince cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand and took a seat beside him. "Don't worry about them, Prompto. They believe you, I... believe you. They're just... trying to protect me."

"Right." Prompto looked down, chin nearly touching his chest. He couldn't handle looking at Noctis right now, and he didn't know if it was because of what had happened, because of the way the firelight illuminated his features, or if he was still thinking about how proud... how regal Noctis had looked back at the tomb. Maybe it was a combination of all three?

"I'm... so sorry about your dad, Noctis."

Silence.

"My dad, he... Uhm. He never paid attention to politics, he was only concerned about his research. We weren't, a-aren't close. He had me appointed to you because--"

Prompto stifled a cough, a hacking sound that came from deep within his chest and caused Noctis to sit up slightly, soft features now sharp with concern.

"He... ugh..." Prompto preemptively wiped his mouth and then sat back once he was confident the minor fit had passed. "Y-you know what, never mind. Let's--"

The boy shifted so that he could pull out his camera, scooting over with his chair so that he could get closer to Noctis.

"I took some photos today. Wanna see?"

He hoped that the meager offering of distraction would appease the prince. He felt stripped bare just then, holding the device out for Noctis to take. It meant everything to Prompto when slender fingers closed around the camera, so much that he fumbled to show the other boy what buttons to press.

This was almost like having a friend. Like camping in the woods with a real, actual friend, the harsh reality of everything softening until it became nothing but the background. They scrolled through the photos in relative silence, Noctis occasionally making an approving sound. Even once (or twice?) a smile threatened to form on his lips. The minutes ticked by and the prince watched the camera while the soldier watched the prince.

"My dad and I used to be close," Noctis said suddenly. "But he was getting old fast and the war was only making it worse." It was strange for Noctis to talk about his father in the past tense, an unfamiliar taste on his tongue. "He just didn't have the time anymore, so... y-you know."

Prompto looked up from the screen once he heard the faltering in Noctis' speech. In the harsh electric glow he saw the beginnings of tears welling up in the corners of those sharp eyes.

"Oh, Noct. I..."

The nickname was an afterthought as Prompto slid from his seat, gently easing the camera from the prince's grip and putting it away. With hardly any measure of grace his knees hit the dirt and Prompto grasped at Noctis' hands, holding and squeezing gently. He didn't know much about comfort, but he had one precious fleeting memory of someone soft and kind. Someone who was there before the tests began, the cold metal slab against his bare skin, the endless networks of tubes and wires, something sick and black pumped into his eternally dying body. Prompto held onto that memory and he gave it to Noctis without much thought. At the time, he didn't know any better. He hummed a quiet song and turned his hand over in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of his wrist to soothe flesh that had just been marred, assuring him that he would live through this, that he would be strong.

But when Prompto pulled away he'd realized what he'd done. Realized that Noctis' wrist bore no mark, that he wasn't anything close to whatever sub-human... _thing_ Prompto actually was-- that this had been a mistake.

"I- I'm so sorry, Noctis. I--"

The prince didn't speak, just eased his hands from Prompto's grip and reached out, fingers tracing along the purples and yellows that still hadn't faded from the boy's throat, blossoming like oil floating along the sea. The prince's eyes were still misty and wet, distorting the campfire's reflection on their surface.

"You what?" He asked, and there was that royal undertone, a selfish part of Noctis stirring, a child of royalty who couldn't stand the thought of something so far out of his reach. Prompto's air of mystery, his questionable presence here and damned tattoo. Noctis wanted it for himself, wanted to take something away from the Empire that had taken _everything_ from him.

He felt the boy tense, the tendons in his neck coiled and relaxed, working nervously beneath Noctis' feather-touches. If he wanted, he could finish what Gladio had started back at the Quay and Prompto probably wouldn't have cared. For Noctis, there was a thrill beneath his hesitation, the sight of Prompto knelt there so innocently, so disheveled and open, making the prince feel much too warm. 

Prompto parted his lips to try and reply, but couldn't find the words.

"S'what I thought," Noctis rumbled, thumb swiping across the soldier's bottom lip.

Without a second thought he leaned down, bringing Prompto up to meet him.

The solider rose up on his knees, hands clinging to the soft fabric of Noctis' sleeping shirt. Overcome by the prince's warm lips against his, the feel of defined muscle beneath his shirt. When Noct's tongue pushed past his parted lips he let him in, his teeth catching the prince's bottom lip while Noctis drank of him,

Prompto kissed messy and desperate, starved for unfamiliar affection and craving a taste he hadn't knew existed until just this moment. His hands moved to Noctis' face, touching the wetness of tear-tracks and then finding purchase in his hair, hardly letting go even when the two of them came up for air. The whimper tumbling from his lips as they parted sounding foreign to him-- a soldier didn't make that kind of sound.

This time, it was Noctis who was apologizing, though the words didn't sound all that sincere or sorry at all. His cheeks were rosy in the firelight and his slender fingers carded gently through Prompto's soft hair, reluctant to stop once he realized how responsive the boy was to the touch, his eyelids drooping and mouth still slightly open. His free hand wiped away what was left of his tears, and the other cupped Prompto's cheek, thumb going back to trace the curve of his wet bottom lip, swollen and pink from kissing.

"Sorry," he repeated, but he was smiling on account of Prompto's dreamy expression, smug to have been the who'd caused it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not everything will make 100% sense right now, but the slow burn is real. Thanks again for reading!


	5. providence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAarhhh... I know that I'm updating like rapidfire, but I can't stop writing.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's following along, still. Double thanks to those who're commenting and leaving Kudos.
> 
> Just reiterating that this was a prompt from the kinkmeme where anon suggested that Prompto is an imperial soldier assigned to escort Noctis and co. to Altissia. I'm trying to follow the game as closely as I can, but obviously I have to make changes so that everything makes sense.
> 
> ...I promise that after the guys see Titan, we'll have some more lightheartedness.

Neither Noctis or Prompto talked about what had happened by the fire. When the two of them had finally put out the last few dying embers and tiptoed back to the tent, the prince stopped the blond from closing his sleeping bag completely and instead tugged him close.

Prompto recalled the prince's body being warm, his chest a firm presence against his spine, one arm slung carelessly over his waist. It was strange and sudden, but not unwelcome. The soldier should have been bothered by the fact that they hadn't spoken a word since their first kiss, but he told himself that this was Noctis' way of grieving, that Ignis and Gladio couldn't be cross with him in the morning if Noctis was the one who started it.

Luckily, Prompto was a habitually early riser and was up and out of the tent before both Gladiolus and Ignis.

Quietly and carefully, he dressed for his morning run, checked that his pistols were loaded, grabbed his holster, and reached for the zipper.

Emerging from the tent and into the rising sun, Prompto stifled a yawn and stretched his arms up over his head. The further they got from Leide, the more humid the air around them had become. The blond knew that he would have to either cut his runs short, or take a slower pace; he wasn't accustomed to such heavy heat. Nifelheim boasted a drier, cooler climate thanks to the presence of the dead Astral, Shiva's eternal corpse.

Prompto attempted his morning stretches without thinking of Noctis, without remembering the touch of his lips on his and how desperate he'd become for more of the affection. It was one thing to realize that he'd never been touched like that before, and another to admit that no one had ever looked at him the way Noctis had.

He frowned, so focused on his attempts to push the thoughts and images from his mind that he didn't realize he was no longer alone.

“Hey.”

A large hand clapped him on the shoulder, effectively sending Prompto a good foot in the air as he whirled around to face Gladio. The man's eyes narrowed, expression scrutinizing the blond for a long moment before finally going soft. “I thought you were supposed to be military,” he teased, apparently amused by the thought of catching Prompto off guard.

The boy's brows creased, bottom lip jutting out slightly as he took offence, but Gladio didn't seem to care. “Let's go, soldier.”

Prompto scowled at the nickname, but followed Gladio as he set off running.

The Shield seemed impressed that Prompto could keep pace, even going so far as to say that Noct could learn a thing or two from him. “A little discipline now and then is good for the brat,” he said with a breathless chuckle, shaking his great mane and still managing to keep up his speed as he laughed and talked.

Eventually, the two of them were beaten by the heat and humidity, Prompto remarking that if they go any further from the haven they're bound to run into beasts.

“Not that I couldn't handle a little scuffle,” he'd insisted through panting breaths, slapping one hand against his thigh for support while he leaned over and wiped sweat from his brow. It hadn't even occurred to him that he was smiling, not until he looked up at Gladio and realized that once the larger man had ceased dabbing the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt, he was beaming.

“I still haven't seen you in action,” he mused, pointing to the pistols slung at Prompto's hips. “I'm starting to think those are all for show.”

While they walked back to camp, Prompto took a few snapshots and Gladio surprised him yet again by throwing one massive arm around his shoulders.

“It's good to have a running buddy,” he mused, his voice but a thoughtful rumble. Last night, he and Ignis had spoken about Prompto's presence at length, the advisor taking a sympathetic stance that opposed Gladio's distrust of their travelling companion. Ignis had convinced Gladio that if Prompto had planned to hurt Noctis, he would have done it already, he also reminded the Shield of the genuine fear he'd expressed in the presence of the chancellor. It was apparent that Prompto knew almost as little as they did, and that perhaps the best course of action was to see the leads they'd been given through to the end.

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed with a hurried nod, his words accompanied by the rumbling of his own stomach.

“Let's get back to camp so you can put some meat on your scrawny ass. You can't beat Iggy's cooking.”

Prompto didn't realize it at first, but he would later come to know that this was Gladio's way of telling him everything was okay, even what had happened back in Gauldin; a way to save face and keep his pride in tact. Unlike his better half, Gladio wasn't very tactful.

* * *

  
Breakfast came and went without so much of a hitch, Gladio not-so-subtly rushing them all in his eagerness to see Iris again. “We still have quite a ways,” Ignis reminded, but there was a softness in his tone that Prompto discovered he saved only for addressing the Shield. “And I'd recommend the three of us shed our Crownsguard attire for the duration of our stay in town-- we wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Before they left, Prompto was startled (and a bit elated) to see a dog bounding up to their partly dismantled campsite.

“Umbra,” Noct had exclaimed, meeting the little animal halfway and kneeling down. He removed something from the satchel strapped to the dog and reached into his pocket for a pen.

Gladio had explained that Umbra was a messenger, a special being in service to the God. Umbra carried a notebook back and forth between Noctis and Luna so that the king and his bride to be could correspond. Prompto had smiled at that, remembering Noctis saying that he loved Luna. It was... sweet.

During the drive, Ignis sipped from a warm thermos of Ebony (how he could still drink coffee in the heat was anyone's guess). Gladio poured over his book miraculously without getting motion sickness. Prompto took photos and shied away from catching Noctis' eye in the rear-view mirror, but the prince was insistent, watching the soldier from beneath the brim of his cap. For a moment, he felt as if he had a place here. The four of them, the Regalia, the road. It was a comforting fantasy, destined to be dashed by the sound of the car radio crackling with an emergency broadcast, effectively cutting off whatever music had been playing.

_“The Kingdom of Lucis is now under Imperial occupation following the death of King Regis. In its first steps towards quelling the unrest, the empire has set up a temporary government from within the Crown City. Prince Noctis, former heir to the throne, has also been reported deceased, along with his entourage who were ambushed by daemons along the road to Altissia, where his wedding to the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya had been arranged to be--”_

Ignis had shut the radio off then, reaffirming his grip on the wheel. “We needn't listen to our own obituaries,” he remarked quietly.

* * *

  
Though the remainder of the drive was silent and strained, the sight of Lestallum did wonders to lift the party's spirits. After a quick phone conversation, Gladio gathered that Iris was waiting for them at the Leveille. Ignis, who had visited the city on occasion, offered to lead the way.

Lestallum was hot, but bustling in a way that both Noctis and Prompto had never seen. The two of them trailed behind Ignis and Gladio, commenting on everything from the tantalizing smells coming from street vendors, to posters advertising local events and products.

“We'll have time to look around later,” Ignis chided as he ushered them along, the group now ascending the steps to the hotel, which was tucked neatly into the west side of the city at the end of a winding, vibrant street.

Iris was there to greet the four of them, bouncing on her heels and throwing her small arms around her older brother's waist. “ _Gladdy_ ,” she exclaimed, barely tall enough to reach his chest. “Oh, I'm so glad you're all safe!"

Prompto looked on as Iris made her rounds, clinging to her brother a little longer before hugging both Noctis and even Ignis. The prince tussled her hair affectionately and the adviser simply cleared his throat and gave her shoulder an awkward pat.

Gladio's sister shared the same kind features he boasted. Her hair was cropped short and her dark eyes were both expressive and inquisitive. She was fit in a way that supported the idea that one day she would also work with the Crownsguard, as her family had for years and years.

“Yes. Well. Gladio, if you and Iris want some time to catch up, I'll begin making preparations for our next stop. Iris, is Jared here?”

“Yup,” Iris replied cheerfully, gesturing for Ignis and Gladio to follow her upstairs. Everything was moving very quickly for Prompto, the soldier struggling to keep up with all the familial gestures, the easiness everyone else seemed to feel now that they were all together. Again, he was the outsider here.

“C'mon, Noct. You too.”

Prompto turned to look at the oddly silent prince. Just as he moved, a rumbling began beneath his feet and soon the walls were shaking as a great tremor heaved the earth. The quake seemed to effect the prince, who stumbled and clutched either side of his head, his cap falling to the ground.

“Noct!” Prompto hissed, closing the gap between them with the reflexes he'd been trained to have since childhood. He caught the prince on his arm and held his weight, staring wide-eyed and panicked at both Gladio and Ignis.

“What's wrong with him?”

“Ngh, my _head_ ,” Noctis groaned and slumped against Prompto, breath pained and heavy. The soldier watched with growing terror as the prince's eyes changed colour like they had in the tomb, glowing an angry red before rolling back so that Prompto could see the whites.

The Shield was there before Noctis' knees gave out completely, taking the bulk of his weight in his arms and nodding to Prompto to signal it was okay for him to let go. Prompto did, but reluctantly so, and watched as Gladio lift the unconscious prince into his arms like it was nothing.

“Gladdy is he alright?” Iris exclaimed in horror, her eyes wide and afraid. “They said the Archaean has been causing the earth quakes, but isn't he supposed to be asleep?”

“T-the _Archaean_?” Prompto blurted, his expression a mirror of Iris'. “As in... the _Astral_?”

“Those who carry the line of Lucis with them are not unlike the Oracle in some ways,” an unfamiliar voice provided, followed by the sound of footsteps. At the top of the stairs stood an elderly gentleman, aided by a small boy with dark hair, a small green cactuar embroidered on the front of his sweater. “Though they cannot reach out to the Gods on their own, the Gods can speak with them, perhaps His Highness wasn't prepared for the strength of Titan's voice. In any case, I think it's time for you boys to come upstairs.”

  
Prompto had learned that the elderly man was Jared, part of the Crownsguard and in the service of Gladio's family, the Amicitia's. He provided a bed for Noctis and then left with Ignis, Gladio, Iris to reconvene and discuss their next move. Prompto understood why he might not be privy to such conversations, but was still flabbergasted that Ignis and Gladio had deemed it acceptable for him to be alone with Noctis. The importance of such a decision did not go unnoticed by the soldier and he nodded firmly, accepting the responsibility with fervour.

“I won't let anything happen to him,” he promised, saluting as he'd been conditioned to.

Until Noctis woke up, there wasn't much that Prompto could do besides get a cold washcloth from the bathroom and drape it over his forehead after removing that ridiculous cap. He tired his radio, no signal from the empire. He tired his cellphone, no service. He supposed that in death, people didn't need to contact superior officers.

He sighed then, returning to Noctis. In a moment of selfishness, he reached out and let his fingers trace the curve of his jaw-- a small indulgence. Blue eyes roved, watching Noct's chest rise and fall deeply and evenly, the jut of his hips where his t-shirt had ridden up on the left side.

He was hopeless. A victim to whatever softness they'd worked so hard to wring from his very bones.

Noctis stirred then, causing Prompto to straighten up and direct his attention back to the prince's face. He was sure he was blushing.

“H-hey,” he greeted, holding up one hand and waving weakly. “You blacked out on us there. Gladio and Ignis are in the other room and--”

The prince groaned, pulling the cloth from his forehead and setting it on the bedside table. “Titan was... _speaking_ to me.” He breathed, reaching for Prompto in a way that forced the soldier to comply.

“Easy,” he warned as Noctis tried to sit up, going to him instead and feeling the mattress dip with his weight. He touched the prince's face, felt his damp forehead. Prompto had trapped his bottom lip between his teeth, the picture of concern painted on his freckled face, Noctis leaned forward and pressed lips to star-kissed skin, mouth ghosting along the line of his jaw.

“Noct. Uhm...” Prompto couldn't help but think that hearing what Titan had to say was more important than getting to make out with the Prince of Lucis one more time, but it was just so easy to let Noctis at him. Now that he knew what affection was like, there was no going back.

“Uh,” he tired again, but his protest came out as more of a sigh. He dipped his head to catch Noctis' lips and he could feel the prince smile with his victory.

The soldier almost suspected that Noctis had faked passing out, just so he could get Prompto alone.

Had he?

Prompto's stomach flopped as Noctis pulled him close, sitting up against the pillows and dragging Prompto into his lap. Their kisses started soft, but grew as their hunger did. Soon, the boy straddled Noctis thighs, clumsily grinding his hips down on instinct.

“Mmhm,” Noct agreed, grabbing at Prompto's ass through his low-slung pants, leaving hot, wet kisses along the line of his throat.

Prompto was beside himself; both hungry and terrified, needy and knowing better than this. Still, he couldn't ignore the heat pulling between them or the sound he'd pulled from Noctis' throat when their hips ground together _just right_.

Buzzing on new sensations as they rocked together, Prompto hardly noticed his belt buckle come undone. He was unaware of Noctis' intentions until it was much too late and warm fingers were already stroking him, drawing a whine from his throat and sending shivers throughout his lithe frame. He felt a wetness grow between his legs, a blush coating his cheeks in revelation.

“There,” Noctis breathed in his ear, the hand currently thumbing over his slit, spreading a generous amount of precome over his length, guiding Prompto's free hand to his own erection. “Just like this,” he encouraged, pulling his mouth away to spit in the blond's palm.

Prompto didn't have to be told twice. If there was even the slightest bit of a chance that he could make Noctis feel as good as he felt now, he would take it. For everything that had happened so far, for every bit of warmth Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio had shown him he would do his best to return the favour as long as he still had this newfound sense of self. Hell, according to the news he was dead anyway. Who was expecting him back in Gralea? Certainly whatever praise he'd hoped to garner from his father was no longer in his cards.

According to the radio, Prompto was already dead, so why not make the most of what he had left? Why not say he kissed a prince and did everything in his power to serve him, to see him back to his throne?

The soldier knew what was right. He knew the other side now and he couldn't go back. He couldn't cause any more pain to these people.

“N-Noctis,” he panted, hips twitching, rocking against the prince's touch as he closed his fingers around his cock. He knew he was sloppy, he knew that he knew nothing about pleasing another person, but he stroked Noctis how he imaged he'd like to be touched, finding a rhythm in the way their hips moved and breaths left their lips. All the while the heat between them grew, causing something to coil within Prompto. His eyelids fluttered and he arched his spine as the feeling spread all the way to his curling toes-- he couldn't take much more.

He must have been doing something right, for the moan he'd pulled from Noctis was heavenly, enough to finish Prompto off. He came into Noctis' hand with a yelp, gasping and dropping his sweat-slicked forehead to the prince's shoulder. Noctis didn't stop touching him, milking his release until it almost hurt, making him whine and seek comfort in the crook of his neck, drool dribbling from his open mouth.

Noctis got off shortly after, fucking Prompto's hand all the way up to the end, biting down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder to stifle the moans. Whatever bruises left on his freckled skin would hopefully fade in with those left from the past few days.

Prompto didn't realize he was still making noise until the prince began to quiet him, cooing into his ear as he grabbed blindly for the washcloth on the nightstand. “It's alright. You're alright,” he breathed as he cleaned up the mess on their skin, their hands.

“I-I'm alright,” Prompto repeated slowly, dazed. He slumped against the prince's warm body and offered him a sloppy kiss, reaching up to drag his fingers along his smooth jaw, his uninterrupted moonlight skin.

They parted and Noctis smiled, taking Prompto's face in his hands and just... looking. “The empire can't have you back,” he decreed, letting his hand sink into blond locks and gently guiding Prompto down. He nestled himself against the hollow of Noct's throat and sighed deeply while the prince pet his hair. He didn't want to go back.

One hand on Noctis' chest, he pushed himself up slightly so that their eyes could meet again. Prompto didn't know what he looked like. How disheveled, how honest, how determined.

“Then, when this is over-- when you're the king, you'll let me stay? Even though I'm--”

“Of course,” Noctis said with a shrug. “Who cares where you were born?”

But ' _where_ ' wasn't really the problem.

* * *

  
Eventually, Prompto and Noctis had to pull themselves apart from each other and let everyone know that the prince was okay.

“Titan spoke to me,” Noctis announced once they were all assembled. “He put pictures in my head. _Luna was here_. She was the one who woke him up in the first place. There's no doubt, I have to go and see him.”

The party pondered Noct's revelation, Ignis being the first to speak up.

“Well, it's a good thing we have passage to the disc, though I can't help but find it all _too_ convenient.”

Gladio grunted, nodding his agreement. “The chancellor is two steps ahead of us,” he admitted unhappily.

“But what other choice do we have?” Prompto piped up, deciding to make known a fear he'd harboured since they first stepped into Lestallum. “The empire knows that Prince Noctis is missing and are broadcasting his death, even though there's no corpse. They have to make good on their announcements and see to it that he's killed. Every minute we're here, we're putting Iris, and everyone else in danger. It's a risky-- the chancellor is... is not a... _good person_ , but he's given us an out. We should take it. Before he left in Gauldin, he ordered me to see you to Altissia,” Prompto added, turning to Noctis. “So, whatever we do, please keep in mind that he's expecting us... expecting me to follow orders, so...”

Prompto trailed off, suddenly weak from the admission, the last thing he was expecting was for Ignis to stand up and touch his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “You're putting yourself at a great risk,” he counselled, “keep in mind, Mr. Besithia that as long as you're working with us, you're a traitor to your empire.”

  
The blond started, blinking up at Ignis with his wide blue eyes, resisting the urge to train them on Noctis instead.

“I know,” he said, eyes welling up with something he couldn't control. “I understand.”

Prompto spend most of the night locked in the bathroom, clutching the toilet and retching into it. If they were to see The Archaean tomorrow, and if he truly was going to be the person he wanted to become, he'd have to be at his best. Whatever filth they'd forced inside of him all those years; he had to get it out.


	6. rotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ey. I promised some lightheartedness so here it is??????!!!!????
> 
> Thanks again for reading!

Prompto had skipped his morning run, too apprehensive about what the day would bring once they left Lestallum. Besides, heat radiated unrelentingly from the power plant towering over the city, wrapping it in a cloak of humidity which cast a sleepy spell over the blond.

After waking, he helped himself to a shower, brushed his teeth and dressed quietly. Noctis still slept, but Ignis and Gladio had already left, probably off preparing for their commune with the Archaean. Prompto knew that he should probably do the same, stock up on supplies and perhaps give his pistols a good cleaning, but a longing glance at the sleeping prince actually had him begin to reconsider. Noct was peaceful there, features free of any creases the weight of a crown might normally press against his brow, bathed in the early morning sun, still wrapped up in the blankets despite the unbearable heat.

Prompto thought of what he wanted to do, instead of what he should do. In a rapidfire decision he crossed the room and went to Noct's beside, bending to meet him. A hesitant hand brushed unruly strands of midnight away from the prince's face and Prompto took one rare moment of selfishness to lean in, touching Noct's sharp jaw and catching him in a kiss.

“Noctis,” he questioned softly, feeling the prince stir beneath him. “You have to get up, it's almost time.”

Prompto was greeted with a groan, but Noctis' lips moved against his own and one hand crept out from beneath the duvet to slide up the lean muscle of Prompto's forearm.

“'M up,” he assured, nipping playfully at the soldier's bottom lip before pulling away completely and rolling over, taking the duvet with him.

With a sigh, Prompto straightened up and backed away, shaking his head with some degree of fondness. Somewhere along the line he remembered Gladio telling Ignis that they really needed to stop babying the prince.

* * *

 

  
“Now, when we reach the checkpoint, allow Prompto to do the talking,” Ignis reminded, only taking his eyes off the road long enough to glance back and Gladio and Noctis through the rear-view mirror. They were on the road and headed towards the Disc, the Regalia but one small blot on the long road ahead, her shining exterior reflecting the sun like a mirror.

“Checkpoint guards probably won't give us any trouble at first,” Prompto supplied, doing his best to keep how nervous he sounded to a minimum. “But once they put two and two together, we might have a problem. One imperial travelling with three Lucian citizens will definitely ring alarm bells; especially if the hunt for the prince is still at large. I'm just hoping that whatever the Chancellor gave us is solid enough to let us through.”

When they reached the gate, Ignis slowed the vehicle and Prompto exited it once they'd stopped. He saluted the approaching guard and handed him off their paperwork. There was a terse moment where the party watched him, too far from earshot to hear what was going on, but they all released a simultaneous breath when the papers were returned to Prompto and salutes were exchanged.

Prompto couldn't get back to the Regalia fast enough, counting his blessings and wishing Ignis would drive faster.

* * *

 

  
“Looks like we're walking from here,” Gladio mused as Ignis pulled the car over once the terrain had gotten too rocky.

“It's so damn hot,” Noctis complained, shoving a hand through his sweat-slicked hair.

“We're gonna have worse things than heat to worry about than heat if we don't get movin', Noct.”

“Be glad for the exercise, Highness.”

“Hey, guys. Is that---?”

Prompto pointed to a small structure in the distance. Something man-made nestled among the rocky remnants of the meteor's wake.

“Looks like another tomb.” Noctis followed, nodding his head before he took the lead, jogging forward to claim another piece of his birthright.

The moment Noctis had received the ethereal weapon, the ground began to shake and the prince doubled over, once again assaulted by a barrage of words from the Astral. This time, Gladio was there to steady them, and the four watched in amazement as the meteor trembled and rose from the ground, held up on the back of a great giant-- Titan.

Prompto was stunned for a moment. Never would he have thought that he'd one day be in the presence of a God, but his stupor was soon broken by a shout of warning from Ignis.

“Get back!”

Just in time, the four of them made it clear of Titan's outstretched hand as he swiped it across the rock in a great arc, aiming to knock them all of balance.

“W-what're you trying to tell me?” Noctis strained, his voice laced with pain as Gladio practically dragged his stumbling body backward, “quit screwing with my head!”

Another loud rumble, Titan's hulking from drawn to nearly his full height as he lift the meteor skyward. This time, the earth cracked and broke beneath their feet, sending Noctis and Gladio skittering down a slope of sharp rock, their cries of surprise and pain barely audible beneath Titan's roars. On instinct, the Shield wrapped his arms around the prince, pinning him close and taking the brunt of the fall.

“Gladio, Noct!”

Prompto and Ignis rushed to the edge of the newly formed crevasse, peering down once the dust has cleared.

“We... We're okay,” Noctis' managed, but another shout followed as Gladio was once again shoving him away from Titan's merciless grasp.

“We're gonna get clear of this guy,” his deep voice boomed from below. “You two find a way down to us.”

“Affirmative,” Ignis replied, nodding once and then leaving the edge, motioning for Prompto to follow. The soldier didn't miss the worry in his eyes, even if Ignis played at composure, he still was just as worried about the Shield and the Prince as Prompto was.

Ignis and Prompto watched their footing carefully, stopping each time the earth began to tremble too violently for them to continue safely. Together, they'd found a slightly steep way downwards that the both of them should have been able to safely climb down from as long as they took it slow. Every second that they were apart from Noctis and Gladio filled Prompto with worry, especially with the Archaean raging so close by.

“W-why is it doing this?” Prompto asked, slightly breathless. “I thought Luna had already asked Titan to put himself on Noct's side.”

Ignis picked his way down a particularly tricky slope, but even in the heat and the chaos, Prompto's new nickname for the prince did not go unnoticed. “Oftentimes, the Astrals might see fit to test those who seek a covenant; it would seem that this is one such occasion. King Regis' life was... ended prematurely, and he had never sought out the Six's favour in his lifetime. How are they to know if Noctis is indeed, truly ready? That being said, most of my knowledge pertaining to the Six is based solely on myth and ancient legends.”

“The stuff of fairytales,” Prompto remarked with a sigh, reaching out with one arm to steady himself against the rocky slope. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, glancing past Ignis towards something on the horizon. No. Already? He reached for the pistols at his hip.

“Ignis, straight ahead. Magitek Troopers.”

“Ah. You see them too? I was hoping that it was simply a trick of the heat. How unfortunate.” Ignis sighed, pushing his glasses up the slender bridge of his nose. “Shall we, Prompto?”

* * *

 

  
“I don't know how much longer I can do this,” Noctis rasped, holding his sword horizontal and gripping the hilt like a vice, palm flattened to the blade as he pushed with all his might to parry the blow from Titan's gargantuan fists. “Shit!”

“You can't die here, Highness,” Gladio roared back over the clang of steel against stone, though he was also starting to wear. The heat and the exertion taking its toll on them both.

Noctis thought he was done for, knees threatening to buckle under the weight of a god pressing down upon him, his blade the only thing separating him from death. So, when the drop ships started to appear and the sky clouded over with a storm of MT's, he knew this was really going to be it.

“Gladio! We have to draw back, we can't--”

What began as a light, cool breeze dancing through Noctis' hair was now rapidly growing into a frigid tempest which swirled and converged around Titan's offending arm. Magic hummed in the air and crystalline shards of ice now formed along the surface of the disc. The temperature dropped (to Noctis' relief), Magitek Soldiers freezing on the spot, their armour squealing in protest against the elements. Titan's fingers recoiled, his forearm frozen completely solid.

“Eat this,” came a cry from the heavens, Noctis watching as disbelief as Prompto came into view, flying down from the sun like some avenging hero in those comic books he used to read as a kid. The solider's voice was followed by the loud roaring of something mechanical, a great saw-like machine heaved over Prompto's head as he came crashing down blade-first into the great hunk of ice enveloping Titan's arm.

“Good to see you both in one piece,” came Ignis' voice over the crunching of ice and buzzing of the machine. “Shall we lend Prompto a hand?”

Gladio got there first, Noctis still stunned by the grand entrance of his two missing retainers, but he snapped himself out of it in time to stand beside the Shield, pulling his own great sword from the ether and giving it his all. The cold of Ignis' spell had given him newfound strength, the courage and aid of his friends spurring him on with vigour.

At last, Titan fell. The Archeaen had deigned Noctis worthy of his blessing, but only just before more Magitek Troopers began to appear, closing in on them from all sides and causing the god to lash out in anger yet again.

“Noct, get back.” Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio did their best to keep the prince safe on all sides, weapons brandished and ready even as an unfathomable number of troops began to close in on them. Completely surrounded, they had no where to go, until one last ship lowered close to the ground, its maw opening up to reveal the chancellor.

The troops stilled, but the Archaean still roared and caused the earth to shift between their feet, rocks tumbling into the crevasse on all sides, Prompto's slight wince being the only reaction to dozens of MT's swept away in the destruction.

“Gentlemen,” Ardyn greeted with a flourish of his cap, a grand sweeping bow to follow. “If you're quite set on living I'd suggest you make haste.” He waited while the party exchanged nervous, uncomfortable glances. “Either die buried beneath the rubble, or live to see another glorious day.”

Reluctantly, they climbed aboard.

“I'm afraid that I couldn't salvage your vehicle in a more timely manner, but never fear! The Regalia will be reunited with you ever so soon. In fact--”

“Why're you doing this?” Prompto interjected, raising his voice to a degree that neither Gladio, Ignis, or even Noctis have ever heard before. The soldier had placed himself between his three new friends and Ardyn, still wielding the salvaged magitek weapon in his arms, tendons tightening below the surface of pale skin. For a moment, silence hung between them, save for Prompto's heaving breaths and the hum of the ship's engine-- the tension settling in thick.

Ardyn clicked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head slowly, drawn now to his full height and eyeing Prompto up and down like a piece of meat.

“Disobedient little thing,” he snarled, the change in his demeanour so sudden and unexpected that no one had time to react until after he'd backhanded Prompto across the face. The soldier stumbled, caught off balance by the weight of the oversized machinery he'd been clutching, only to fall back against Noctis and Ignis, who caught him beneath the arms and helped to his feet.

“Don't you dare touch him,” Noctis hissed, muscles coiled and prepared to stike, but Gladio had already stepped between them, blade at the chancellor's neck.

“Now, now,” Ardyn was chuckling good-naturedly, the ferocity inside of him shrinking back into hiding. “Don't work yourself up over the insignificant things, good prince. Ah--” He tipped his head slightly so that he might see past Gladio's massive weapon of choice. “We've just about arrived. Ta-ta.”

“Huh?”

When Gladio angled his sword for a better view, Ardyn had simply vanished. Unnerved, but more concerned about where they'd been taken, the man relinquished his blade and moved to the door of the ship, watching as the light flooding in through the opening doors grew wider.

Meanwhile, Ignis and Noctis tended to Prompto, who shrugged off their concern and shook his head slowly.

“You should be more worried about how he just up and disappeared like that,” Prompto insisted lamely. “Like I said, I can handle a little scuffle. I'm military.”

Noctis was unconvinced, knowing that there was more to the exchange between Prompto and Ardyn than the three of them had actually seen. He'd grill the blond about it later, but right now he was right, they had more important things to worry about-- like where they'd been dropped off.

The four of them stepped into the light, shoes squelching in damp grass and a comfortable breeze blowing through large, ancient trees.

“Judging from the climate, we're near Duscae,” Ignis provided.

Prompto took a step forward, taking in the scene and spotting a decent-sized encampment not too far off. He heaved the saw he'd been carrying, the movement catching Noctis' attention.

“Oh. Prompto, here.”

The prince took the weapon from him, holding for a moment, feeling it's weight. Then, it vanished in a flurry of blue sparks as if it'd never been there. “Just think about it being in your hands and it'll be there,” he explained.

Prompto frowned, but nodded and reached up to scratch lightly at his scalp. He felt three pairs of eyes on him, and realized that they were all still concerned about what had happened inside the ship. He sighed, then reached out and clapped Noctis on the shoulder, putting on a lopsided grin.

“Thanks, Noct. It'll come in handy later I'm sure, but I honestly... I think I've seen enough magic today. Who'd have thought we'd bring down an Astral?”

“You'd best get used to it, Prompto. Next on our list is the Stormbringer, Ramuh. Though I daresay it will be difficult to hunt down Gods on foot in the absence of the Regalia. Lucky for us, Duscae is famous for one thing.”

“Chocobos,” Noctis provided, excitement creeping into his voice.

“Choco... bos?” Prompto repeated, “really? For real?” Gralea was so cold that wild chocobos couldn't live there comfortably, and with all of their technological advancements, domesticating them was hardly a necessity anymore-- he'd never seen one up close. “That's... awesome,” he breathed, forgetting all about the sting on his cheek.

The Chocobo Post was a short walk away, especially considering that Gladio and Ignis had to jog to keep up with Prompto and Noctis.

The Post was a quaint little space that smelled strongly of chocobo. Stables were lined up around the establishment, a great yellow bird occupying each one. Stable hands tended to the animals while farmers worked on tidy crops of Gysahl Greens and other vegetables.

“Hey. Yeah. Hi.”

Still slightly winded, Prompto waved to one of the farmers, who introduced himself as Wiz, the owner of the place.

“We're looking to rent some birds,” Noctis finished, bending slightly at the waist as he caught his breath.

“Well,” Wiz began, “I'm 'fraid you folks are outta luck. As of now, we can't permit any bird t'leave the post, on account of a Behemoth terrorizin' these parts. Hunters've tried takin' him on, but the damn thing's just too much to take on. It ain't safe.”

“Noct. A word?” Ignis' voice cut through the initial disappointment, followed by a hand on the prince's shoulder. “Gladio has just got off the phone with Cindy. Apparently some benevolent stranger dropped the Regalia on Hammerhead's doorstep. She's in dire need of repair and I'm afraid the bill is going to be quite steep.”

“Well, I guess our work's cut out for us,” Noctis replied easily, apparently not sharing Ignis' well-meant concern.

“If we take on that nasty, what kind of reward are we looking at?”

* * *

 

  
Gladio pressed a finger to his lips, his other hand pressed flat to Noctis' chest to prevent him from going any further. The Shield then pointed upwards, to where the snarling Behemoth prowled overhead, its rancid breath invading the party's senses. “It's blind in one eye,” he observed, “broken horn, too. Here's what we're gonna do...”

* * *

  
“When the covenant is forged, the Oracle awaits the King at the Walls of Water. Stray not from the path.”

Noctis' fingers curled into soft, yellow feathers and he nodded with conviction. Gentiana had appeared to guide them as the storm brewed overhead-- a sign from The Fulgurian.

“A messenger of the Six, much like Umbra.” Ignis leaned over his bird to whisper to Prompto, who's blue eyes had gone wide at the sight of the vision before them. A crack of thunder and his mount shifted, so Prompto pat the skittish bird and steadied her quietly.

Ramuh's blessing was bestowed upon Noctis with little hassle, much to everyone's relief.

* * *

 

  
It took a few days to return to Hammerhead by chocobo, but the extra time had given Cid an opportunity to make the trip up to Cleigne, where the late King Regis' boat remained moored and in need of repairs. If they were to travel to Altissia as Gentiana had suggested, they would need to cross the ocean. On Gladio's request, Cid would also pick up Iris and Talcott to bring them to the house there on the cape, Jared having been worried about the safety of the two children.

They were on the final leg of their trip back. Noctis had hauled in an impressive catch at the lake for their dinner and Ignis had cooked it to perfection. Now, the fire crackled quietly and stars twinkled overhead. They'd all observed how the nights were growing longer, how daemons prowled the darkened countryside in greater numbers than before. It was concerning, and the party hoped that perhaps Luna would be able to tell them what was going on, and if there was anything they could do to help.

The longer the night's lasted, the more severe Prompto's condition got. He was finding it difficult to hide how sick he was getting, to keep up with the others.

Trying to keep his mind focused on more positive things, Prompto lay curled up in a mass of soft yellow, the warmth radiating off of his sleeping chocobo and a bed of fluffy down outweighing the pungent smell. They'd been riding for a couple days anyway now, so the soldier was sure they all stank a little bit like chocobo.

Scrolling through the photos on his camera, the blond hardly noticed the prince as he eased down beside him.

“Figured I'd give those two some alone time,” he commented, drawing Prompto's attention from the screen and towards the tent. He put away his camera and smiled somewhat, shifting slightly so that he could watch Noctis through a curtain of feathers.

“They really care about each other, huh?”

As they travelled, Prompto had noticed the way Ignis and Gladio looked at each other. Whether it was out of discretion or politeness, he'd never seen the two display affection publicly. Then again, Prompto didn't exactly see Ignis as the type to kiss and tell.

Noctis nodded. “I'm kind of waiting for one of them to pop the question,” he said with a laugh. “Both of them are so... I dunno, dense.”

Prompto's shoulders shook as he shared a laugh with the prince, but he couldn't help but think about Noctis' own marital status. After all, considering their... relationship Prompto thought he had a right to ask.

“What about you?” He asked, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes darting away. “We'll... Be getting on the boat soon.”

Silence, and then a long, drawn out sigh.

Prompto's heart began to beat a little bit faster, experiencing the familiar feeling of something acrid crawling up his throat like a threat.

“So,” Noctis mumbled. “I already told you, It's not like that with Luna and I. It's--”

The prince's steely eyes watched Prompto, the chocobo trilled softly in her sleep.

“I'm gonna be king. If... If I wanted to keep... y'know. It's not like anyone would be able to say anything.”

By now, Prompto had learned that Noctis wasn't very eloquent when it came to his feelings, but he felt as if that wasn't a good enough excuse-- the words still stung. He laughed, unable to help how bitter it sounded when it left the hollow of his throat.

“If you want to keep me around, I'll be like some sort of thing on the side. A prize for the king? Is that it?”

He knew that he was being selfish, asking for more than he could afford, but Prompto couldn't completely help himself. These last few weeks of travelling with the prince had taught him something, stirred within him a feeling that he wasn't quite sure what to grasp. There was a warmth in him now that he couldn't convey to any of them-- that he couldn't find a word for, especially when it came to Noctis. The longer they spent together, the more it grew like a great swell in his chest, a wave cresting a once parched shore.

“Prompto, no--” Noctis began, fumbling to find the right words. “Not at all, I mean...” He stopped again, sitting up and shaking his head, brow furrowed with what looked like building anger.

“Don't be like that,” he said, exasperated. “I don't even know you. You're here because of some huge political fuck up, you... you and the chancellor, and your damn secret tattoo.”

Now, Prompto was sitting up too, his face red with what could have been anger or embarrassment. Noctis didn't know him but had no problem taking him to his bed at night, Noctis didn't know him, but wanted the right to pry him open, to take the blade to his skin, to crack his ribs for a look inside at the abomination he was.

“Oh, you know what?” Prompto hissed, teeth sinking into leather as he peeled the glove from his hand. “Here. Look. _Is your highness not pleased_?”

The soldier turned his wrist to the flickering glow of the fire so Noctis could make it out, so that there'd be no mistaking the black lines of ink, dark against the sickly pallor of his skin. Then, he pulled away, not waiting for a reaction. He simply rolled over and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, ashamed of it.

Noctis' anger crumbled away as if it'd been nothing. Now he knew that he was in the wrong. He didn't need an explanation to figure out that a mark like that wasn't something someone went under the needle for willingly. He'd gone too far and now Prompto was hurt, it was his own fucking fault. The prince didn't know what the barcode meant exactly, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask.

“Prompto,” he tried, reaching out with a hesitant hand to touch Prompto's shoulder and squeeze. It was smaller, more bony than he remembered it being.

A laboured breath rattled through the spaces between the soldier's bones, and it seemed like forever had already gone by before he finally turned around again. When their eyes met, Noctis could see the glimmer of tears threatening to fall and so he reached out to catch them before anything more could happen.

“I'm... an idiot prince,” he mumbled, sinking back down to Prompto's level and pulling him close. “I'm so sorry. You don't owe me anything, not a single word. You never will.”


	7. sutures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I UPDATED TWO CHAPTERS AT ONCE. SO PLEASE GO BACK IF YOU DIDN'T READ ABOUT THE BROS ADVENTURES IN DUSCAE!
> 
> I was just... on a roll and wanted to get all the Astral stuff done in one go.
> 
> I also... took some liberties with Altissia because Luna deserved 100000 more hours of screen time.

“Guess that's why they call it the Walls of Water,” Gladio remarked with an impressed whistle.

Approaching from the sea had given Prompto a wealth of opportunities for photographs and he found himself wistful for the wide expanse of blue before them. There was something freeing about the ocean that he hadn't quite felt anywhere else. Sure, Nifelhiem had accrued a vast amount of land into their nation, from rolling plains to miles of untouched tundra, but Prompto had hardly seen any of it during his lifetime.

Noctis was hanging off his shoulder, glancing at the photo's he'd already taken. As time had gone by, the prince became less and less concerned about their proximity to each other while in Gladio and Ignis' line of sight. The four of them had spent months living in each others pockets and would have had to be dense to not notice the goings on behind closed doors (and tent canvas). Whether or not they approved, well... Noctis supposed it was too late now.

Cid had seen them off once they'd docked the boat and made it past the port checkpoint, commenting on how he was just the chauffeur and very much content to stay out of the 'political mumbo-jumbo.' He did, however give them a lead by the name of a bar near the eastern side of the city.

“Earlier this morning, Lady Lunafreya addressed the city. Her first official statement as Oracle since Insomnia's surrender. A shame we missed it, Noctis.”

“Yeah,” the prince agreed.

“But we still get to see her, right Noct?”

“Hopefully.”

Altissia was built like a maze, and although Prompto happily took snapshots of picturesque scenery and romantic architecture, he had to agree with Gladio's complaint-- they may was well have been walking in circles.

By some great miracle, they'd made it to Maahgo and the bartender greeted them with gusto, claiming to have known Noctis since he was a child. The prince didn't remember him and was slightly embarrassed for it.

“Cid told you about us, though. Weskham, right?”

“Precisely, and this,” he gestured to a woman who lingered near the bar. Her white hair cut short and dressed in a matching pantsuit. “Is my good friend Camelia Claustra, the First Secretary of Accordo.”

Gentlemen,” she greeted, adopting a no-nonsense tone. “I won't waste your time. You should know, we have the Lady Lunafreya in our care and the empire demands we surrender her. I am loathe to acquiesce unless we stand to profit. Hence, I've come to discuss terms with the King of Lucis.”

With a pointed glance at Noctis, Camelia took a moment to let her words resonate with the young King. “If you've mind to talk, come to my estate.”

With that, she took her leave, along with her envoy.

“Her heart is in the right place,” Weskham offered with a hearty chuckle.

* * *

  
Once they'd had a chance to check into the hotel and make themselves look presentable, the party headed to the estate. His envoys looked on as Noctis coolly and easily negotiated terms with Camelia. It was agreed that Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis would aid with the evacuation of the Altissian citizens, that the rite would only take place if no harm came to the secretary's people. It was a simple enough compromise that Noctis could sympathize with, but when Camelia had remarked that he reminded her of his father, his composure cracked slightly, but he managed to thank her modestly as he shook her hand.

“I... have one more request,” Noctis said, just as they were about to call it a day. “Luna... Can we see her? The rite won't take place until tomorrow--”

The secretary had rounded her desk, but paused before retaking her seat, considering. Just as Weskam had assured them, there was something about the King's request that had softened her hard edges.

“If you're willing to wait, I can prepare an audience.”  
  
The three of them were ushered into a grand drawing room decorated in much of the same fashion as the rest of the large manor. Large, floor to ceiling windows provided a dazzling view of the waterbound city and allowed the sunlight to spill into the room, illuminating spotless, gilded furniture. Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio had always grown up among such finery, but Prompto found it all a little grandiose, and lingered by the doorway while the other three stepped further into the room.

From the other side of the room, a large set of white doors opened and the click of heels echoed through the large chamber. Luna stepped into the room, draped in sheer, clean white. At her heels, a dog coloured just as purely who trotted faithfully alongside her.

Prompto was stunned, mouth left slightly agape as he watched her practically glide into the room. He knew that she was the Oracle, but he hadn't begun to fathom the warmth she would exude, the kindness tucked away behind her vibrant gaze and soft, smiling lips.

“Noctis.”

Her voice was the warmth of summer, a breeze passing through and endless meadow. Prompto's heart tightened as the prince met her half way, arms around her in an instant. She cupped his cheeks with delicate fingers and tipped his head down, placing a kiss upon his royal brow.

“It's been twelve long years, my dearest.”  
  
The King's cheeks were pink when he pulled away, and he ducked his head to hide the tears now trickling from his eyes. “Luna. This whole time you've...” Suddenly, he was self conscious of his friends being in the room, but he had to push through it because she deserved to witness his gratitude.

“This whole time, you've been paving the way for us. How do we even---”

She hushed him with a finger to his lips. “Noctis. It's my duty as Oracle to stand beside the King. You know this. Besides, I couldn't very well sit and wait for you, silly boy.”

A small laugh escaped her and she wiped at his tears once more before pulling away, crossing the room to meet Ignis and Gladio, taking them each by the hand. “You have my gratitude. Ignis, Gladio.” She bowed slightly, “for bringing Noctis here. I am in your debt.”

Gladio shuffled from one foot to the next, scratching at his hair and clearing his throat. “Just... Doing our duties as well, princess.”

“And you must be...”

Luna could tell that Prompto was not dressed in Lucian attire, but she was aware of the treaty's terms and knew from where the blond hailed.

“Prompto Bestithia,” Noctis supplied.

“Ah,” she smiled. “Prompto.”

As if she'd blind him with her light, Prompto shied away slightly, but there was no stopping the Oracle from taking one hand in both of hers. She paused as she drew him in, not speaking while the seconds ticked by. Prompto could smell her perfume, the scent overwhelming him, making him dizzy. There was something in her divine touch that made him want to recoil, to slap her gentle hand away and run.

The two of them exchanged a look, something akin to sorrow flooding her otherwise serene features.

“Thank you,” she said finally as Prompto let out a breath, able to relax once she had released him. “For protecting my closest friend.”

She turned away then, and all was forgotten.

“If her ladyship would prefer, perhaps we might allow herself and the King some time alone,” Ignis suggested, already ushering a less prudent Gladio and Prompto from the room.

* * *

  
The night before the ritual, Noctis had seen to it that Gladio and Ignis took a break. He offered them a separate hotel room even, and though they danced around accepting it, the prince gave them a pointed look and pressed the room keys into their hands with a huff. “I'm not a kid anymore,” he reminded. “Go have... date night or something, while we can still do stuff like this. After tomorrow, everything is gonna be different.”

“Date night, huh?”

Prompto had laughed, leaning slightly over the balcony rail, clutching it with his nimble fingers.

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “Date night.”

The blond scrunched his nose, watching the way the sky gradually faded from blue to pink as the sun began to set. It was gorgeous, burning brilliant orange over clear water, sending fragments of light dancing over the city. He would have took a photo, but he wanted to live in the moment-- a picture wouldn't do it justice.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, a thought occurring to him. He whirled around and realized Noctis was still leaning in the doorway, making a show of examining his nails, a parody of waiting.

“Date night,” Prompto repeated, slowly this time.

* * *

  
They couldn't exactly be affectionate in public, not with the prince due to wed the Oracle here in this very place once the smoke had cleared, but that didn't stop Noctis from taking Prompto around the city and buying him whatever he wanted for a sunset dinner.

“I told Luna about you,” he said suddenly, pushing around what was left of his dessert, a tart stuffed with fruit puree and sprinkled with powered sugar that looked like snow. He stared hard at his plate, unable to look across the table.

“W-what. Why?” Prompto asked, flustered and choking on his own after dinner treat, (an exceptionally rich chocolate cake, of course).

Noctis' chair scraped against the patio stones and he reached across the table to try and help Prompto breathe, but the blond swatted his hands away and swallowed thickly. Red faced and breathless, he wiped his face with his napkin and frowned. “She's... Ugh. Noct. I can't...” He remembered the way she'd looked at him, how her eyes had pierced through the walls he'd erected around himself like she knew. “She probably doesn't even like me.”

“Don't be stupid,” Noctis said, shaking his head and sighing.

Prompto sighed, but didn't press the matter. Gods save their ignorant, endearing King.

After dinner, the two had helped themselves each to a glass of Altissian wine in their hotel room. Obviously, they couldn't push it, tomorrow was a big day and they had to be in their top form. Still, Accordo was famous for its wines, and the rich red liquid went down smoothly. Noctis had joked that Ignis would have been proud of their fine tastes, and they clinked their glasses together on the balcony.  
  
Around sundown, the King had almost spilled the entire fare when he'd tugged Prompto into an impatient kiss.  


* * *

The bed was soft, sheets silky like liquid beneath Prompto's bare skin, he tugged Noctis down with an incessant need, begging him to come closer, impossibly so. He wanted this etched into his mind forever, Noctis' scent, the way his body curved and dipped, the feel of bruising fingers digging into his skin.

The King had gripped the ornate headboard in one hand and slung Prompto's leg over his shoulder with the other, making love to him until he unraveled completely.

"Tomorrow, Will you--"

"We don't have to talk about tomorrow."

Prompto let Noctis kiss him again, even though his lips couldn't possibly get any redder. His jaw ached beautifully, but he still found the strength to return the gesture and wedge one leg between the prince's knees while Noctis pet his hair. He'd never been so warm, despite being cloaked in the dark.

* * *

  
The four of them stood just a way from the altar, fitting in their earpieces that Prompto had given them from his bag of supplies. They were empire-issued, but the soldier had used his technical know-how to alter the frequency so that the four of them could enjoy a private line.

“Alright,” Noctis said, nodding to his three companions. “You guys handle the civilians, Luna and I will take care of the Hydrean.”

“With these,” Prompto tapped his earpiece, feeling a surge of pride. “We can keep in touch. Don't be strangers!”

  
All at once, Altissia was thrown into chaos. From the moment Luna had called upon the sea goddess, Leviathan had grown to anger, the imperial presence only serving to further incur her wrath. Noctis was having trouble getting close, stuck cutting through wave after wave of MT's, trying to climb higher so that he might get a vantage point. Periodically, his friends would check in, so at least it was a relief to know evacuation was going well.

Around him, the city was crumbling. In the fray it was difficult to hear anything other than Leviathan's throaty roars.

“Highness,” Ignis' sharp voice suddenly buzzed in his ear, just as he destroyed another soldier, prying his blade from now defunct armour.

* * *

  
“Alright,” Prompto breathed, firing off another few shots to cover his ass as he dodged bullets, rubble and swipes from the great sea serpent's seemingly endless body. Gladio and Ignis had sent him back into the thick of it while they took care of the last of the civilians once they'd realized Noctis wouldn't have made it alone. He needed to come up with a plan, and he needed to come up with it quick.

He would have made a comment about plans not falling from the sky, but that was... exactly what had just happened. Thanks to the Hydrean, an MT piloting a speeder had crashed into the ruined cobblestone before him, nearly crushing him in the wreckage. “Yes, yes, yes,” he thanked the remaining Five (because seriously, fuck Leviathan right now), for his stroke of luck and pushed the immobile armour off of the sputtering vehicle.

“C'mon, baby,” he purred to the machine, revving the reluctant engine as he mounted it. He tried to ignore the calamity around him and focus his attention on getting the bike to move. “C'mon. C'mon.” With a disheartening sound, the speeder powered down, not sensing the presence of it's assigned pilot.

Prompto tore at his glove with his teeth, swearing muffled by leather. He swiped his barcode over the sensor present on the control panel, hoping to override the damn thing and trick it into working. Filled with elation as the engine started to chug, the soldier kicked it into gear and headed for the vantage point they'd plotted out just hours before.

“Noct. You hear me? I'm gonna count to three, and then I need you to jump.”

“ _You need me to what!?_ ”

“Trust me. I've got you.”

“One.”

It'd been awhile since he'd operated a speeder, but Prompto was a natural. A lifetime of trained, ingrained responses and programmed conditioning wasn't something that just went away.

“Two.”

The soldier pressed on, wind and water whipping his face as he expertly weaved in and out of the rest of the battle. Below him, he could see Luna, armed with her Trident and baiting the Goddess. For a split second, something lurched within Prompto, overcome by the thought of switching course, of abandoning Noctis for a more pressing directive.

“ _Prompto_?”

The King's voice broke his trance and Prompto nearly slipped. The hover dropped a few feet before he righted himself, boots fitting comfortably in the footholds once more. He shook his head to clear it.

“Three!”

Prompto hoped for the best, crying out in relief as the hover suddenly lurched with an added weight.  
  
“What the hell is this thing?” Noctis yelled over the roar of the wind.

“A new toy,” Prompto replied gruffly, one hand letting go of the handle as he reached for his pistol. “Hang on. I'm gonna take you as close as I can. Don't let go until I tell you.”

Noctis felt... useless as Prompto expertly drove the foreign craft and eliminated anything that got close with a deadly precision. It was the first time in a long time that he remembered the blond had been raised to go to war-- a fact easily forgotten when the playing field stood more evenly. As instructed, he held on as tightly as he could, up until Prompto had managed to find an opening, speeding towards the Leviathan at an alarming pace.

“Now!”

Watching as Noctis sped toward the Leviathan, fingers finding purchase on her shining scales, Prompto eased up on the controls and steered clear enough to reload his pistol. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been breathing, or honestly remember much since he'd first taken hold of the speeder's steering. He gasped, forcing a great gulp of salty air down his throat in order to push away the adrenaline.

But Prompto was not granted any sort of reprieve. In his ear buzzed Gladio's voice, frantic and very much unlike him.

“Prompto. It's Ignis. Get over here now.”

“Ah-Yes, s-- Y-you got it,” he stammered, changing course.

* * *

  
“Noctis?”

Leviathan's rite had been a disaster. They'd won the Goddess' favour, but all they had to show for it was injury and loss. Ignis' sight and Luna's life. Noctis had managed to get his hands on a ring, a ring that had always been meant for him. Ignis had explained that it was called the Ring of the Lucii and it granted the King unfathomable power, as well as the ability to command the crystal.

The death of the Oracle had been devastating, but Noctis had taken it the hardest. He blamed himself for what had happened to Luna. Gladio blamed him for Ignis' scars, too.

Prompto lingered by the King's seat, debating joining him, but deciding against it when he received no reply. Noctis was grieving, and there wasn't much Prompto could do for him while they were confined to one rail car.

Wandering back to where Ignis and Gladio were seated, he slumped into the seat across from the couple.

“Cartanica, then Tenebrae,” Prompto counted the names on his fingers. “After that, we're in...”

“Your hometown,” Ignis supplied.

“Yeah. Gralea.”

Prompto hadn't thought he was ever going to see the city again-- not that he had any particular desire to.

“It can't be helped,” Ignis continued, as if losing his sight had helped him develop the power to sense the blond's discomfort. “We have to retrieve the Crystal. That being said, Prompto. You're welcome to stay behind.”

“N-no!” Prompto yelped a little too loudly. “I... I can't leave you guys now.”

“Hmph. More spine than his majesty,” Gladio crossed his arms over his chest, glaring in Noctis' direction.

* * *

The royal tomb at Cartanica had been... tense. Ignis was impaired, Gadio and Noct were at odds, and they were all tired of tromping through cold, muddy water while being assaulted by daemons everywhere they turned.

Once they'd gotten what they'd come for, Ignis finally spoke up, berating both the King and the Shield for their childish behaviour.

“Gladio. Noctis will take his place when he is ready,” he counselled, an air of finality in his words. “And Noctis, we will stand by you as we've sworn to do, however... You cannot blame Gladio completely. He has always been quite... soft around me, it's quite overbearing, actually.”

“Mind you, It is my decision to stay and no one else's. At the end of the day, a King must move forward, despite grief and hardship.”

* * *

  
“Hey Noct.”

Again, Prompto lingered by the King's seat, arms folded on the backrest. This time, he leaned forward and twirled a finger around a strand of dark hair. “Look out the window,” he instructed.

“Gralea used to mostly be desert, but when Magitek Infantry killed the Glacian...”

He hummed a little tune and peered out at the window along with Noctis. Both sleet and rain converged into one, whipping winds sending snow over otherwise bare plains. Prompto retracted his touch and sighed, almost happily.

“Weird,” Noctis remarked. “Hey.” He twisted around to look at Prompto. “Where are Gladi-”

“You,” he roared, jumping from his seat and drawing his weapon. Where Prompto should have been, the Chancellor, Ardyn Izunia now stood. The man who had murdered Luna, who'd hurt Prompto, the man who was always one step ahead of them.

Noctis swung his sword and Ardyn jumped back, surprisingly spritely, considering his build.

“Woah, Noct. Slow down!”

Again he lashed out and Ardyn broke into a run, Noctis chasing after him as fast as his legs would carry him. They hurtled through the cars, one after the other.

“Noctis. You're making a scene, calm down! You're scaring me.”

Finding his opening, Noctis took it, ramming the blunt edge of his blade up to Ardyn's throat and pressing him against the rail car wall.

“This is your fault,” he snarled, “all of it. I'll kill you.”

“R-really? You really mean that.” He sounded genuinely terrified.

“Of course I do, you piece o--”

The train lurched and Noctis fell, head spinning.

* * *

  
Noctis had woken to chaos and Prompto dragging him hurriedly to the front of the train. “It's an ambush,” he panted. “Noct, they're coming from above. Gladio and Iggy are taking care of the engine room. I've got things here, but we're gonna need you topside.”

Once outside, Prompto and Noctis helped each other climb the ladder up to the roof of the train, their feet finding purchase on the still speeding locomotive. Noctis couldn't hear Prompto through the sound of whirling wind, but he didn't need to be told as the drop ships began to descend upon the train. One nod and Noctis was off, throwing his sword and disappearing after it in a crackle of deepest blue.

* * *

  
“Go on, boy.”

Prompto steadied himself, aligning his sights. His silver pistol pointed right between Ardyn's eyes. “I...” He struggled, squeezing his eyes shut for the briefest of moments, trying to quell the nausea that had surfaced. He swooned, almost stumbling forward.

“What's the matter?” Ardyn provoked, but before he could get another word in, the heavy sound of boots hitting the steel roof announced Noctis' return. The chancellor held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Noct!” Prompto cried, but before anything else, his weapon was knocked from his hand and he'd lost his footing, tumbling from the moving train and into the cold.

* * *

  
“Ngnn...”

Prompto woke cold and aching. Gingerly, he pulled himself up from the shallow snowdrift, fingers quivering, teeth chattering. He was freezing. When he touched his forehead, his hand came away warm and sticky, coated in black.

“...No,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly and looking out at the expanse of barren, dead land ahead of him. Gralea. _Home_. “No. Fuck. No...”

But everything had been wrong... Noctis had attacked him. Noctis had  _killed_  him.

This couldn't have been real.


	8. the fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna go ahead and dedicate this chapter to everyone who's said such nice things about this story so far, and to the OP at the kinkmeme who came up a prompt that I just had to go to town on.
> 
> I also wanna thank those who've been leaving constructive crit. I'm not really a writer and I've not written anything with this large a scale before. It's super nice of y'all to tell me what your expectations are and such, because I want to improve and all that.
> 
> Uhh. For this chapter, we're gonna start to learn more about Prompto's upbringing, and I think we'll get that for the next two or three chapters. I'm not sure how it's gonna flow yet. The feels are gonna be strong, and I really wanna... share some tunes I've been listening to while I've been writing the emotional parts. If you wanna have a good time, while you're reading check out: 
> 
> Peace to you too Motherfucker – Des Ark, Should this Noose Unloosen – Civilians, Losing in a Sense – Bandit, Good News – Julien Baker, No Below – Speedy Ortiz (which is my ultimate lovesong for Prompto and Noct, btw).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. Let's be friends on tumblr because I have no squad? Find me @ mvgitek.tumblr.com

The air was dry and frigid, piercing his lungs as he forced breath into them with each step. Prompto could at least count his blessings and be grateful that the snow wasn't deep. The cold was one thing, but if moisture were added to the equation he'd surely be done for. For the most part, his boots connected with frozen dirt and rock as he trudged on, spying the occasional resilience of greying flora native to the climate. It gave him some hope. He'd grown here, too and so he would adapt like all things tied so deeply to their roots.

The first thing Prompto needed to find was shelter, and something warmer than his current attire. He had no idea where the force of Noctis' hand had dropped him, but the more he thought about the King and his behaviour, the less inclined he felt to continue. Even so, he knew he had it in him-- he knew that his death wouldn't be at the whims of nature, but by his own undoing, his own self-deficiency.

How could he forget? A part of him had always been there to undermine the rest. He'd been dying since the tender age of four, disappointing at ten, nameless at twelve. What was he now again? Did lab-rats age?

“Aah... Gotta keep moving. Gotta stay warm,” he reminded himself, now wishing he had taken Ignis' advice back on the train and stopped by the dining car. In the middle of nowhere, the thought of the uptight adviser chastising him for poor diet was a welcome distraction. He'd take it.

How long had he'd walked? Prompto didn't know, but the sun dipped dangerously low to the cold, hard ground. Stars hadn't quite begun to appear, but the sky now changed from blue to pink.

The level plain before him had it's advantages; anything that wasn't part of the landscape would stick out like a sore thumb, and so when he saw it, there was no denying that it was something of interest. Along the horizon, something black and hulking only a short distance from where he stood.

  
Encouraged by the find, he pressed onward. Dark would come soon and the temperature would drop even more, and Prompto didn't want to have to choose between freezing to death, or being mauled by daemons.

* * *

 

  
Drawing in cold air had stung Prompto's chest and throat, and he was nearly wheezing by the time he'd approached the wreck. It appeared that a drop ship, (two of them, in fact) had fallen from the heavens. He didn't waste any time inspecting the outsides of them for signs of what might have caused the failure, but instead searched for the override switch to manually open up the machine's great jaws so that he might get out of the cold.

“What the hell...?”

Prompto wondered aloud, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. Concern and worry crossed his expression, he never thought he'd be so unnerved by the realization that he wouldn't be needing his pistol, (one had been stolen from him by Ardyn on the train). The entire ship was empty, both the bridge and the unloading bay, save for the clothes of the two pilots which lay crumpled in their respective chairs... as if the people wearing them had vanished into thin air.

At least... At least he'd have something warm to wear now?

The soldier stepped forward, helping himself to a warm, fur jacket and matching hat. The vestments had been left as if they'd been laid out just for him-- it was eerie. Despite being indoors, he completed the ensemble by pulling on the thick leather gloves and flexed his fingers, testing to see that he would still have the dexterity to wield his firearm.

Alright. That was one problem solved. The next would be to see if the ship still had power to it, and if he pushed his luck, he'd dare to hope that it was still operational.

Slumping into the pilot's abandoned seat, Prompto tried not to think about where these people had gone, or _what_ had taken them. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve on his jacket and presented his branded wrist to the control panel's scanner, praying for the buzz of electricity to fill the bridge.

“Yes!”

He cried out, relief flooding him and warming him some. The control panel flickered to life, though the sound of an alarm caught Prompto's attention. Frowning, he checked the gauges and dials before pulling up the ship's damage report onto the main screen. Alright, so he wasn't going to sprout wings anytime soon, but at least he had somewhere warm to stay the night. He could even use the instruments here to get an idea of where he was and strike out again in the morning.

Despite everything, Prompto was grinning, even if he didn't realize it, even if an inhuman sound caught his ear and snapped him out of his momentary victory.

The soldier was on his feet in seconds, face to face with two snarling imp-like daemons who'd somehow taken up residence inside the thick, metal walls of the carrier. How they got in, Prompto couldn't deduce, but they balked at the neon glow of the control panel and Prompto ended their misery with two quick shots to their skulls. It wasn't easy for an enemy to surprise him, his limbs practically moving of their own accord to deal a clean, efficient death.

The sound of gunshots echoed in the small space, the daemons sinking back into the dark with an ominous, lurching sound.

 _Was_ he safe in here after all that? Prompto didn't know, but he'd have to ride out his luck a little longer because until morning, he wasn't going anywhere.

He knew his way around the carrier well enough to know where emergency supplies and rations would be stored. Within a matter of minutes, Prompto had packed a bag of firestarter, military grade rations, two empty canteens, a few boxes of bullets, some light tools, and a stock of potions. To his dismay, the ship's radar had damaged in the sudden fall, and he couldn't seem to pick up anyone on the receiving end of the radio.

For the remainder of the night, Prompto curled in the pilot's chair and nibbled at the familiar taste of military-grade ration packs more out of necessity than desire. He missed Ignis' cooking, he'd miss his morning run with Gladio.

In the dim light of the console, the blond sunk deeper beneath his coverings made of haphazard articles of owner-less clothing and heaved a great sigh. _He missed Prince Noctis._

* * *

He hardly had a plan. The map he'd found within the emergency kit could only tell him so much if he didn't know where he was. Prompto had studied it over a breakfast of hardtack, trying to estimate where the train had been located along the marked rails when he'd fallen. No. Pushed off.

Stepping out into the sunlight, Prompto packed his canteens full of pure, untouched snow and clipped them to his belt before taking his first steps outward. He was taking a risk by leaving what could have been the only shelter for miles, but the soldier's best bet was to go in the direction opposite of where the ships had been heading-- they had to have come from somewhere.

He still tried not to think about where the pilots had gone. Somehow, _he knew_ , but he didn't want to think about it.

  
As he laboured on, Prompto kept an eye to the sky. He watched the sun in relation to the horizon so that he didn't waste any valuable energy on panicking when there was no cause to. If he had to spend another night out here, he tried to calculate his chances of finding some sort of natural shelter. He could hunt something down and cook it. Whatever beasts he'd encountered so far had been few and far between, but they hardly posed a threat and would taste better cooked over open flame than the packets of ration he had to look forward to.

The distraction of survival was a wonderful nuisance. Prompto was better trained in practicalities than matters of the heart. The more he mentally tipped the scales between his life or death, the less he thought of Noctis and the searing, but inevitable betrayal.

He'd die where he was born, just as his father promised on the days where he wouldn't respond to treatment; a wish veiled beneath a threat.

Prompto told himself that he was making progress, if only to keep his own morale up. His boots crunched the dirt and snow beneath him, the sun warming his stinging cheeks. The air was crisp, the clear expanse of nothing oddly soothing as it was terrifying. He'd fallen into a comfortable rhythm, an acceptable pace to move his feet at.

Things went well only up until they didn't.

Without warning, Prompto was gripped by a wave of sickness. It hit him hard, causing him to double over and cough up the rations he'd managed to keep down from last night and this morning. Arms crossed over his middle, he retched up familiar, oily black. He tasted the same sharp acrid sludge on his tongue as he had again and again.

He groaned, stumbling back. His head spun with vertigo and he dropped to his knees in an attempt to steady himself. Not now. _Why now_ , of all times?

When it seemed as if it'd passed, Prompto put his arms out in front of himself and rest on his knees and elbows. Head dropped between his shoulders, he drew heavy, foul-tasting breaths and closed his eyes to regain some of his composure. From his open mouth, a stringy trail of black hovered just above the ground until it'd become heavy enough to fall and discolour the snow.

He felt warm, warmer than he should have despite being wrapped in fur. The touch of a reassuring hand on his back, slender fingers trailing from his spine to his shoulder. Even though he was wrapped in layers of clothing, he could feel it against his skin. He was a boy, sick in bed, the blankets tossed around from when he'd thrashed from fever, the cool air soothing on his bare, freckled skin.

“Mom,” he mumbled, delirious. He cracked a smile, joy welling up from some unknown reserve inside of him.

“Not quite.” A fond little chuckle.

Sweet and warm, Prompto decided. The scent of a flower that he'd never learned the name of; a spring meadow he'd never actually seen with his own eyes.

He sat up on his knees, hands in his lap, fingers folded neatly.

Ever so gently, delicate hands cupped his jaw on both sides, thumbs tracing soothing little circles on frostbitten cheeks.

“Oh,” he breathed, opening his eyes. “Luna. Hi.”

She laughed again at the simplicity of his greeting, Prompto's brash honesty endearing. He laughed too and leaned into her touch, bright blue eyes meeting her own.  
For a moment, the silence stretched between them and the true nature of Luna's smile was apparent, accompanied by misty eyes and a furrowed brow. To Prompto, she was glowing.

“I ask too much of you,” she began apologetically, her hands now taking Prompto's in her own. “But, I need you to hear this and know that I am deeply _sorry_.” She threaded their fingers and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “By the time we met, I wasn't strong enough to mend you; my flesh already failing so.”

“No--” Prompto shook his head in protest, fingers tightening between the Oracle's. He tried to smile so that Luna would know, so that she would be able to find peace in knowing that she had done everything right in her time among the living. “I-it was Noctis. You had to be there for _Noctis_. Not me.”

Pulling one hand free, Prompto wiped his forearm across his eyes and then reached out to touch Luna's face. By now, the feel of her skin had burned the same way it had back in Altissia, but Prompto didn't care. He'd burn in the light of _everything_ divine if it meant escaping the Hell he'd been promised to.

“Just don't... Don't pity me. Don't put off your rest on my account,” he asked quietly. “Please keep watching over Noctis. He needs you.”

The Oracle leaned in once more, pressing her lips to Prompto's forehead and holding him close. Prompto savored the affection, tried to make it so he would remember how she felt against him. Her words came with great sadness, and although he didn't understand them completely, he did recognize their truth.

“When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace.” She pulled back to look him in the eye.

“...I know, I've always known.” He let his shoulders slump, the terrible weight of confirmation sinking in. 

The warmth faded and was replaced once more with bitter cold. Before him now two feet clad in black, ornate shoes.

“The heavens and earth, shaped once by Gods now paves the way for he who would stand beside The True King,” Gentiana whispered, and on the Glacian's breath blew a ferocious storm, wind strong enough to carry Prompto's feet along the right path. In the distance, a dog barked as if she was calling the soldier's name. He could see her now, just as white as the winter around them.

* * *

  
Prompto's gloved hands gripped the chain link fence. With the cutters in his pack, he'd clipped the links enough to slip inside. He knew where he was. Ridorana Garrison, a training encampment and MT storage facility nearest to Gralea's outer city limits. Prompto had spent a lot of time here as a child, and lived here for most of his teenage years once he'd become to weak to travel for his treatments. He soured, reminding himself that he'd stopped seeing his mother around that time, though he still remembered the song she used to sing.

He didn't understand why Gentiana and Pryna would lead him here instead of straight to Gralea. To Noctis. Maybe there was something here he'd been meant to see? Then, realization. How could he have been so stupid?  
  
“So,” he breathed out, eyeing the heavens suspiciously. “You know more about me than you're letting on.”

Steeling himself, Prompto approached the door to the medical facility, unnerved by the emptiness of the place. If he had to have guessed, it seemed as if the place had been abandoned in a hurry. The more Prompto poked around, the more he realized that things had just been dropped where they were without a care, and the absence of dust meant that whatever had happened here, happened quite recently; the rooms hadn't even begun to settle yet.

“Ah. Ward C,” Prompto whistled, as if commenting on familiarity would make this seem more like a fun trip down memory lane instead of some sick joke. “Home sweet home.”

Gentiana had been right, there was something he'd need here if he was going to make it on to Gralea; his body could probably only be sustained by Luna's waning magic for so long.

Prompto did not stop to look at the rows of unused beds. He did not stop to look at the operating table as he rushed through the swinging doors on one side and out the other. He did not think about the surgeries, the bright lights, the sterile smellof latex gloves and the incessant poking and prodding. He did not think about how he had changed here, how his blood had boiled and his pulsed surged with a force through his veins that had threatened to break. He did not revisit the sick thrill of a snapping windpipe beneath his fingers, the high that came along with devouring prey.

By the time he'd reached the supply room, Prompto was shaking, sweat beading along his forehead. He tried to frantically sort through vials and bottles while simultaneously shedding his coat and hat. He was too hot, yet goosebumps blossomed over clammy skin. Clumsily, he knocked over what it was he'd been looking for, the vial clinking as it dropped to its side and rolled. Prompto caught it in shaking hands before it was too late. A viscous liquid, blacker than the night rolled harmlessly inside.

Somehow, he'd managed to get his hands on a syringe. He pulled the bandanna he wore over his arm taught with his teeth and forced himself to focus and look for a vein.

Slumping against the wall, Prompto sank down to the ground and let out a whine as he administered the injection, both cured and infected all at once. He pulled the metal tip out as soon as he'd drained the instrument, tossing it aside without any care and letting his head fall back against the wall with a loud thunk.

He groaned loudly as his system protested to the invading substance. While it strengthened his naturally frail body and focused his mind, in order to keep Prompto's childhood illness at bay, it replaced the vacant space with a new disease. The blight that had fallen upon their very star, concentrated and refined-- his father's great legacy. Both his pride and regret.

Prompto stared up at the ceiling, but only saw black, as if ink had blotted his vision just for a moment. Once it cleared, he dropped his head forward and took a few, calming breaths. Something feral and mindless attempted to claw its way up the soldier's throat, but he'd had so much practice repressing it that he paid it no mind. Instead, he stood on two legs like a docile newborn spiracorn, both relieved and lamenting that he'd live another day.

  
Without thinking, Prompto gathered up as much of the little black vials as he could into a case, along with whatever medical supplies he might need. The injections would stop his fits, but he had to be careful about how much he took. Years of trial and error had taught Prompto's father about administered doses and their effects, but sometimes the soldier's mind had been too clouded to pay attention, stuffed to the brim with more pressing suggestions and vital commands.

He was in no mood to stay here, not now that he'd come for what he had needed. Prompto gripped the case in one hand and his pistol in the other, the weight of metal in his palm most comforting. He exited the lab as quickly as he could, but stopped dead in his tracks as he stepped into the atrium of the ward.

“Dad?”

Versatael Bestithia looked as if he'd been expecting his son.

“Why are you surprised, boy?” He practically barked, stepping forward with his greedy eyes on the case.

“Dad. There's... There's no one else here. What are you doing? It probably isn't _safe_.”

“Someone had to be here to welcome you _home_ ,” he older man replied as if it were obvious. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, irritation filling the creases in his features. “Don't tell me you've forgotten the entire point of this mission? Perhaps so much social interaction has dulled you. How long has it been? How far have you traveled?”

“M-mission... I...” Prompto chewed on the inside of his cheek and let his gaze drop to the floor. Of course, his father had no interest politics. Lucis, the Empire, he didn't care as long as he could continue his research, feed his pet project.

“...This was the first injection I've taken since leaving for Lucis,” he mumbled. “But, I...” Prompto didn't want to have to explain the withdrawal, the horrible feeling of being stripped of his sense of self, watching his body try and combat itself. A terrible creature that lurked inside of him, or a terminal illness that would have ended his life at five. Prompto didn't get to choose, he realized that the day Versatael had stopped calling him by his name and given him a number. No longer was this a desperate endeavour to save his dear son. It was a glorious opportunity to further science, to build the most efficient, subservient machine. The details of his mission, he knew them, but none of that mattered anymore.

He clutched the cold metal of his gun, hand shaking as he raised it.

“I'm going to die,” he announced softly, one last act of defiance as he flicked the safety. “After I help Noctis, I'm going to die and then it won't matter, anyway. Your work won't mean shit.”

His father's cold laugh had him falter, surprised. It didn't sound right at all.

“Oh. No. You're going to live. You still have plenty of use in you. How else am I to bait the King? Word is he's become _infatuated_ with you.”

His father was gone and the Chancellor had taken his place, a Cheshire grin on his disgusting face.

“Ardyn,” Prompto snarled, the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears.

He remembered squeezing the trigger, he remembered the bullet lodging itself into the Chancellor's chest. What he couldn't account for was the wave of exhaustion that had overcome him. He wouldn't have been able to explain to Noctis why, or apologize to him for letting himself be lead like a dog at his master's heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, the kinkmeme prompt requested Prompto be related to Luna, but... I dunno. I couldn't make it right, so I'm sorry. Still, I did want her to have a connection with him that was separate from Noctis!


	9. reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like an asshole for disregarding Ravus completely, but I think you can blame FFXV's storytelling for that. As much as I wanted to like him, they didn't give him a good foundation. Whoops.
> 
> Anyway, I felt like it would be like cramming too much in the fic if I just introduced him now. Maybe in the future I'll write fic all about Ravus to make good on it.

He knew what he had to do, and yet the weight pressing down on his shoulders had finally become almost too much to bear. Ignis and Gladio weren't here to stand beside him as they had been all his life. Prompto, torn away from him by Ardyn's tricks. Noctis had begun to depend on the boy, knowing him as a cursory flicker of light before the sun had set each night. He'd been a constant on this journey, having more than proved himself beyond initial doubt. Maybe Noctis wasn't great at showing it, but the privilege of having Prompto in his life was hardly measurable.

' _A learning experience_ ', Ignis had first said of the light-haired soldier. What was once the desire to conquer something that had not been handed to him on a silver platter had turned upside-down. That something had claimed him instead, and now a piece of the King lay locked inside the depths of a cold, mechanical hell, waiting to be retrieved.

Hopefully, anyway.

The King couldn't be sure of Prompto's fate, but he could be certain of what he needed to do. _Alone_.

Sliding the ring onto his finger had been excruciating. The rite of passage had ignited a spark behind his ribs, flames licking at bone and muscle. An extraordinary pain burst behind his eyes and reorganized the contents of his mind. Something clicked, and Noctis fell to his knees while he cried in anguish. Soon he would be connected; connected to the crystal, the catalyst. His body now a conductor of ancient power, the strength of the old wall surging through him and converging at the ring.

Even though the concrete floors and thick walls, he could hear all of Eos around him. All the Six's creation hummed beneath his skin, causing the little hairs on the back of his neck to stand. He sucked in a breath, and was calm. He _wasn't_ alone.

* * *

  
Prompto woke slowly, taking his time to break free of his sleepy fog. Drawing breath caused him to ache, his fingers numb and unresponsive when he tried to move them, tingling with the loss of blood. Something warm trickled from the bridge of his nose, staining his dry lips an indecent black, coating them in foul taste. The wound stung, but it was bearable; he was more worried about his lack of mobility.

It didn't take long for the soldier to figure out that he'd been restrained. While he could move his head and neck, his arms outstretched and held slightly above his head (hence the loss of feeling) and he was pinned at the waist and ankles as well. What kind of sick contraption--?

He stopped himself from letting his thoughts dip anywhere further into the dark, and instead focus on what he did know. He was in a cell, his pack, his weapon, camera, and the transport case he'd stolen from the garrison were neatly stored on a small table on the northeast side of it, within sight, but not reach.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, but he did remember leaving the medical ward.

Back at the garrison Ardyn had... changed his appearance? There was no denying that the Chancellor wasn't like other people, but Prompto's knowledge of magic extended only as far as what Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio had taught him about Lucian Kings, Oracles, and Astrals. Nowhere did they mention anyone with abilities quite like Ardyn, who seemed to slip through the seams of space and time.

Unless he was a daemon? A daemon unlike any other Prompto had seen before. Maybe he was what happened when the transfusions went right? It might have made sense... It was by Ardyn's guiding hand that Prompto's treatments advanced as far along as they had. It had been his father who wanted to abandon the project altogether once it was clear that the scourge wasn't taking to him, killing him instead.

But Ardyn had persisted and even went as far to suggest he, Prompto... be chosen as... Prince Noctis' envoy.

Realization hit Prompto like a crashing wave and he twisted in the restraints, throwing his head back in a vain attempt to broaden what he could see of the room he was in.

“This whole time!” He shrieked, black tarnishing his snarl.

“Indeed,” came the calm reply. “So glad for you to have pieced together the puzzle. This has been a _fun_ little science project now, hasn't it? Let's debrief, soldier.”

Ardyn came from behind Prompto, footfalls echoing on the concrete floor as he made his way around to face him. Mirth filled his eyes, irises lit with a mangled amber. He grinned, teeth pearly and waiting. “The poor Bestithia boy, too frail to be a proper heir, suffering from an affliction too dire for even Nifelheim's finest doctors.”

“Stop it,” Prompto warned, fingers twitching as he willed some life back into his sore, sleeping muscles. He didn't want to hear his story spoken on Ardyn's foul tongue. The only one meant to tell it was himself, and soon he would get the hell out of here and tell it to Noctis, who deserved every detail.

Ardyn sighed, lifting his hands in a parody of surrender as he had done on the train, shaking his head slowly and with what looked like disappointment. “As you wish,” he acquiesced.

“...You want Noctis to find the crystal, don't you?” Prompto asked, his voice feeling small, even within the limited confines of the cell. He lift his head, his neck already feeling strained from the position he'd been forced into.

“I would rather show you than tell,” came the frustrating reply. “Why miss out on a good spectacle? Besides, this here...” Ardyn turned his palms up, spreading his fingers. “This is about _you_ , for once. Let's pretend for a moment that all of Eos doesn't revolve around the great King of Kings.”

As he spoke, the Chancellor stepped forward until he was just inches away from Prompto. Had the boy his freedom, he would have taken a step back, but there was no getting away now. Prompto supposed that he could at least be grateful the contraption held him a foot or so off the ground, mercifully giving him the illusion of a height advantage.

“But that'd be _impossible_ for you,” he continued. His voice was low, but gentle.

Ardyn slid his fingers beneath Prompto's chin, forcing eye contact. His touch was sickeningly careful. He handled the soldier as if he'd been made of glass-- still the frail boy bound to his bed. Prompto's vision narrowed and he licked his blackened lips, catching the sludge from his wound on his tongue. Lips curling into a defiant smile, a disgusting noise following as he inhaled the thick liquid, only to spit it back into the Chancellor's unshaven face.

He started to laugh, even when Ardyn wiped the offending filth off with his fingers and gripped Prompto's jaw again. His heart was hammering in his chest, spine arching off the cool metal at his back as much as the restraints would allow. A rush of adrenaline brought that feral creature out of hibernation once again. The stench of the scourge invaded his senses and burned down his throat. It felt... _good_.

The soldier should have been scared of the lack of reaction, but instead he was spurred. For a fleeting moment they locked eyes and Prompto panted heavily, anticipating. The Chancellor's lips pulled back to a grin. He reaffirmed his grip on Prompto's chin and slowly, deliberately smeared his soiled fingers over the blond's otherwise fair skin, blotting out splashes of freckles with black. A strangled sound spilled past his lips and he tried to wrench himself free.

“You're his new favourite pet, _hmm_?”

The chancellor had worked to keep his fury veiled, but no amount of disrespect would go unpunished. He found delight in the cry of pain that escaped Prompto as he pressed his thumb to the cut on his face, digging into the wound and letting the blood flow freely, suffocating Prompto for all he cared right now. _If he fell asleep, he couldn't spit-- the vile little beast._

“'Mm not,” Prompto gasped, shaking his head as much as Ardyn's grip would allow. He felt... far away. He'd forgotten where he was, as if the warm dark had finally taken him. Prompto let his eyelids flutter shut while he rode out fresh waves of pain; not all of them radiated from his wounds. His voice muffled now as Adryn's thumb swiped across his bottom lip, a possessive and almost loving gesture.

“Not what? _Good enough_?”

Prompto frowned at the sound of a familiar voice. Though his eyes were still shut, Ardyn's grip had loosened enough that he could drop his head forward.

“I never said that--”

“But you're thinking it.”  
  
Prompto opened his eyes, and the cell was gone. He'd been swallowed by thick darkness, a black and starless night cradled him in her arms. Before him, the only source of light-- of anything really. Noctis. The King. The Sun.

“...So, you're a mind-reader now?” Prompto's brow quirked up in question. Noctis laughed. Prompto laughed, too.

“No,” he admitted with that same casual shrug he'd always punctuated his responses with. “But I can see it. You have these... tells.”

“ _Tells_? C'mon, Noct.”

The King took Prompto's face in his hands, and the soldier met him halfway.

“You always... hang around after everyone's gone to bed,” Noctis accused playfully, lips brushing against Prompto's but refusing to give him what he wanted, to let him touch, to feel, to be consumed. “You're more comfortable in the dark, I think. It's the only time you'll ever really _talk_ to me.”

“You're the one always... _lingering_. Coming around after you're sure the sun's gone down. Why don't you go to bed like the others, huh?”

“Because then I wouldn't have gotten to know you.”

“Oh.”

Noctis finally pressed their lips together and it ached. Prompto kissed him with yearning, an insatiable craving burning deep inside of him. He'd thought that he'd wanted the King to envelop him, burn him up in his light, but the more they touched the more Prompto craved. He wanted to be the carnivore, the hunter.

* * *

  
“Prompto. Thank th--”

Noctis recoiled, pulling his hand away as if he'd been burned. The chair swiveled around to reveal a lifeless MT. The unfinished skeleton clattered to the floor in a heap, and Noctis began to lose heart.

“ _Isn't it fitting?_ ” Ardyn's gleeful voice crackled into existence. “ _An unfinished product, just like your dear Prompto._ ”

* * *

“Your father was a fool to not see the potential,” Ardyn remarked, even if the boy couldn't hear him. "Then again. He knew so little; most humans do." The chancellor watched Prompto's ailing body writhe against the restraints as he rode through another fit, eyes rolling back as his skull hit metal with a resounding crack. He was all corded muscle and twisting limbs, wrestling with whatever unholy magic Ardyn had used to awaken what sat dormant in the soldier's blood. “So quick to give up on you as soon as you turned for the worse. How cruel... He left you neither human, daemon, nor magitek soldier, and worst of all... He couldn't even prevent your inevitable... expiration. Of course, you could keep taking your medicine...” Ardyn glanced to the case set down with the rest of Prompto's belongings. Before him, the boy still convulsed, a gurgling noise creeping up his craned throat.

“But, it's really no way for a boy your age to live. It's a shame no one took the proper care.”

By now, Ardyn couldn't abide by the boy's suffering. It was safe to say that he'd hit a chord and this would be enough. He needed the boy alive if he was going to keep Noctis on the right path. Besides, the point of this endeavour was to... put an end to those who suffered the Scourge. Take back the crystal, sit the throne, usher in the dawn.

“It really is a shame,” he repeated, reaching for Prompto. He tipped the boy's head and thumbed below his eye. Black had spilled over into the whites of them, a faint orange glow where his pupils should have been. “That it's come down to this.”

By some miracle, the chancellor brought the boy back down, carding an uncaring hand through his sweat-dampened hair and scoffing. Pathetic little thing. The tragedy would've been endearing, had the Chancellor a heart.

* * *

  
“I'm so... Fuck. I'm so glad you found me.”

Noctis panted, leaning heavily on his father's sword, clutching the hilt and using it as leverage to pull himself up from the ground. Moving forward, he pulled both Ignis and Gladio into a hug, heaving a great sigh of relief. When they parted, however there was silence and a hopelessness settled over the three of them almost instantly.

“I'd have thought for sure either one of us would have found Prompto by now,” Gladio said, since no one else would.

Noctis tightened his jaw, wrenching his sword from the ground and gripping it tightly. “We'll find him,” he assured.

“Indeed,” Ignis remarked. “We shan't take back the crystal unless the _four_ of us are together.”

* * *

“G-Gladio!”

Prompto crumpled to the ground like the defective MT skeletons Noctis had seen littered throughout the keep, but the Shield was there to catch him before he hit the floor. He checked the boy's pulse, then nodded in affirmation, Noctis' stomach dropping with relief as he hurried to his side. The King could hardly wait for Gladio to pull away before he was gathering Prompto up in his arms, placing the boy's head in his lap and pushing summery strands, blotted with black from his face.

Backing off, Gladio described the situation to Ignis, who (ever practical) suggested they find something to help clean his face at least. “It looks like the stuff that comes outta daemons,” Gladio whispered the warning into the advisor's ear so as to not send Noctis into an uproar. Ignis nodded, pondering the thought while the larger man rummaged through the pile of Prompto's personal things. The canteens he found would do nicely, and he grabbed a few potions too, but the locked case baring the Imperial Sigil had him worried. What had Prompto brought along? Where had he been and why would Ardyn bring him here to them?

“I don't like this,” Ignis spoke, as if reading Gladio's mind. “Ardyn's aid... although outweighed by malice still troubles me. He wants us to take the crystal.”

Noctis wasn't listening, but Ignis hadn't expected him to. The King was too busy washing Prompto's face and hair with sterile gauze from the first aid kit and water from the canteen. His hands shook, but when Gladio offered to take over Noctis refused. Both he and Ignis stood back and watched on, worry for their friend still ever present in the air between them.

“You're gonna be okay,” he breathed, words shaking. His chest was tight with both relief and shame. Prompto was safe now, but what had he suffered through? Noctis had dragged him into this, stolen him away under the guise of a benevolent ruler, only to have it backfire. Prompto was important to Noctis, and that made him a target-- the bullseye.

“Nngn...” Prompto groaned like a sleepy teenager who'd refused to get up for school. He stretched his arms until his muscles cried out in painful protest and caused him to open his eyes for real. What he saw made his chest swell with rapid palpitations.

“Y-you came for me?” He squeaked, turning his head slightly, able to just make out Gladio and Ignis' boots, along with the end of his walking stick. “Guys? Noct!?”

He wanted to sit up, but everything hurt and his head was pounding as if someone had taken a hammer to it and swung. Not to mention, the wetness falling onto him; a light shower of Noctis' tears.

“Oh. Oh, no. Noctis,” Prompto gasped, reaching up as the King curled his spine. Noctis was so close now that it was easy to pretend nothing else existed but them. It was like revisiting that strange place in the dark, but this was much more tangible, as evident by the clenching of his chest and hitching breaths Noctis took as he sobbed.

“Were you worried about me?” He asked, throwing his pride to the wind, his voice barely even a whisper. What had happened on the train, he knew that it hadn't been Noctis, but he had to hear it from the King himself for it to be a reality. “Tell me.”

“Of course I was,” Noctis practically wailed. If Prompto hadn't been injured, he would have punched him in the arm. “What kind of question is that?”

Everything was soft and sweet for a moment there in the cell. Noctis' lips pressed against his, taking him without any sort of frantic greed. They kissed slowly, tenderly. Before the king pulled away completely he dipped back down to whisper in his ear.

“I love you, Prompto.”

The words were so raw, so honest and foreign that Prompto couldn't even reply. Even as Gladio plucked him from the ground like he weighed nothing and Ignis ordered Noct to shoulder Prompto's pack, while he handled the case; Prompto still stared, gaping at the king.

No one had ever told him that before.

“Uh. Guys,” he croaked, throat aching when he raised his voice, the tears welling up and clogging his sinuses doing nothing to help the predicament. “Can we... Find somewhere to talk? I-- I owe you all... an explanation.”


	10. reprieve (reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait. I'm so sorry omg.
> 
> Maybe a little warning for some very slight unwanted touching and a good bout of torture.
> 
> pls follow me on tumblr so we can be friends: http://mvgitek.tumblr.com/ i want to follow you, too!
> 
> Other than that, enjoy the chapter and thank you so much for reading, especially those who comment! Comments and constructive crit make me wanna keep going! I have a small Gladio/Iggy one-shot type of thing in the works, too actually. I love Gladnis, and... hopefully you guys will be interested in reading that, too once it's ready!

Restrained again, panic setting in too quickly for Prompto to even realize it. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, breaths coming shorter and more desperate, as if they might be his last. He willed himself to composure, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, counting backwards from ten.

Silence, save for the sound of him drawing deep, calming breaths.

A grunt of effort as he tugged against the left restraint, grinding his teeth and setting his jaw, pulling even when it refused to budge.

“Save your strength, boy.”

Prompto grimaced, the sight of Ardyn causing his flesh to crawl, a sleeping something rattling in the back of his chest. Hadn't he already lived through this? Why was he back here? What in all the Six was happening to him? Was he dead? Had he lost his mind somewhere on the barren plains outside of Gralea?

* * *

  
“I'm okay. I can walk,” Prompto insisted, heaving a sigh of relief as his boots made contact with the floor. How nice it was to stand on his own two feet without faltering and knowing that if by some chance he should, the guys would be there to catch him.

“Thanks big guy.” He pat Gladio on the shoulder before turning away to retrieve his pistols from Noctis, trying to lighten the mood. Once his holster was sorted, he nodded to the King. “Ready,” he assured with a lopsided grin.

Noctis nodded, even if he wasn't entirely confident in Prompto's strength, unable to see past the fading lacerations on his wrists. He narrowed in on the ugly wounds as the soldier's quick fingers reloaded his weapons, twirling them with a flourish before placing them back at his thighs.

“Prompto, if I may,” Ignis spoke up as they started their way down the hall. “Just before reaching you, I heard a strange noise, not unlike the one I heard on the train the moment our weapons ceased appearing. Could we perhaps be near some sort of device?”

Prompto, who was leading the group now-- on the count of he and Noct being the only ones armed, hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, Iggy. Just before the attack on Insomnia there was talk of a... Jammer, I guess you could call it. It's a machine that causes interference between the crystal's magic and Noct's ability to channel it. It's how they... took down the wall. I don't know anything about a sound, but you could be onto something.”

“Well, if we retrace our steps, I'll be sure to hear it again.”

The soldier nodded. “I have a good idea of where it might be, too.”

Slowly, the four of them made progress through the winding, narrow halls of the keep. Although it was frustrating to not be completely armed, between Prompto's pistols and the late King Regis' sword, they were fine. In fact, Prompto hardly gave Noctis a chance to brandish the glimmering blade-- as they rounded yet another tight corner, two rogue troopers wielding great axes barreled towards them with reckless abandon. Protect the king, Prompto had thought. Whatever beast which lied dormant inside him rearing. He fired off shots without even changing gait, watching one crumple to the ground and exude whatever life had been siphoned between plates of metal in fading, inky tendrils. Where he thought he'd feel pity, the soldier couldn't ignore a tingle of satisfaction in his gut. He was stronger, better. No one was going to touch Noctis while he was here. No. The prince was his to protect, to have, to fuckmaim _kill_.

Fire burned beneath Prompto's skin and he dropped his pistols into waiting holsters, finishing the job by throwing himself at the second trooper. His itching fingers finding purchase against the cold metal of it's helmet, which he slammed into the wall once, and then again, reveling in the sound of armour cracking with each impact, the whir of damaged machinery.

It wasn't until Gladio had pulled him back that Prompto realized what he was doing. Caught in a choke hold, he struggled long enough to hear the three of them calling to him, cutting through whatever predatory haze that had blinded him.

“Calm down, Prompto!”

_“It's dead already!”_

“S-sorry,” Prompto panted, lifting his hands up and pressing his fingers to Gladio's bicep. The larger man let up slightly. “I'm okay, just--” He breathed again, “just being in that cell was...”

He trailed off, honestly unable to explain himself. What had Ardyn done to him? Just then he'd felt exactly as he had when he took too strong a dose; raw and primal, like an animal. _A daemon, more like_.

Prompto glanced up at his company with a modest embarrassment, unable to quite meet Noctis' concerned gaze. Had he thought about rending the king's very flesh from his bones?

They pressed on, and luckily there were no more hitches on the way to the device.

“Ah. I can hear it again,” Ignis announced.

“Me too, now that I'm listening for it,” Gladio said with a nod.

“So where is it?” Noctis asked. They all glanced to Prompto, who lead them towards a large door.

“The Emperor has always been pretty vain. He kept the thing right in his throne room,” Prompto explained, lifting his branded wrist to a panel set beside the door, the red lights set into the device turning green, a short beeping sound accompanying the shift.

Behind him, the door slid open.

“Pretty handy,” Noctis remarked, and Gladio clapped him on the shoulder as the two of them entered the room before him. Bringing up the rear was Ignis, who Prompto moved to guide with a hand at his back.

“They don't mean to be insensitive,” the advisor said, as if his blindness wasn't even a factor, and he could still see the tightening in Prompto's features, the self-consciousness that came with drawing attention to the ugly barcode on his wrist. “They're very much aware of the cost that came along with it.”

“Right.” Prompto took those words to heart as he stepped further into the room, frowning at the sight of Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt's formal robes draped over the throne in the same way he'd found the pilots' coats just days before.

“Turned into a daemon,” Noctis supplied with a frown, looking at Prompto. “I saw... some of your dad's research notes on the way here. Actually.” The King reached into his pocket, as if he might have saved the crumpled scraps.

“...I don't--” Prompto began, but then he thought better of himself. From his back pocket, Noctis produced a small, leather bound book made for jotting notes on the go. Prompto accepted it with a nod. Some futile, hopeful part of him thought that maybe somewhere in that book there was a way to reverse... whatever he was becoming.

Clearing his throat, he broke eye-contact with Noctis, unable to look at the careful concern the prince regarded him with. “We have to find a way to shut this off,” he announced, turning away. “I'm sure I can figure it out. Gimme a se--”

A crashing sound caused Prompto to turn back around to where he saw Noctis' sword lodged deep within the jammer's control panel.

“That's one way to do it,” Gladio said with a laugh, watching the king use his foot as leverage to pry the blade out, only to sink it in again. “Piece of junk invention anyway.”

Now that they were armed, they stood a chance.

Even so, Ignis had insisted they regroup, rest, and find something to eat.

“Prompto needs rest,” he had whispered into Noctis' ear. At once, the king agreed and the four of them sought out the closest beds.

* * *

 

The soldier's barracks were modest, but nothing Prompto wasn't accustomed to and more than the other three could hope for. Two sets of bunks, a small kitchenette. They didn't have any cooking supplies on them, but a vending machine that still seemed somewhat stocked stood in the corner, beckoning the hungry group with an inviting neon glow. Having running water was also an unexpected luxury.

Noctis had locked the door behind them and finally let out some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Gladio and I will figure out a meal, you two will rest and tend to any injuries.”

Sometimes, Ignis' mothering grated on him, but right now Noctis wouldn't have dreamt to protest. He was hungry, weary, and ready to flop down on a flimsy mattress of his choice and tug Prompto down with him.

“Hey.” Approaching the light-haired boy, Noctis tried a crooked smile, sliding an arm around that slender waist and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Don't ever leave my sight again,” he whispered into soft gold. They both smelled like sweat, dirt, and blood, but Noctis didn't care. “As King, I--”

“You order me, right?” Prompto asked, sounding tired. But when Noctis pulled back he was wearing a smile, freckled cheeks flooding with a light splash of colour.

“Right,” Noctis replied, kissing the top of Prompto's head and smoothing down his hair as he moved them both to a seated position on the edge of the nearest mattress.

“Hey, _hey_ , get a room.”

Gladio was shaking his head, pulling up two chairs for himself and Ignis.

“Gladio, might I be assured that you'll notify me if those two get up to anything indecent?”

“As if you two aren't always all over each other,” Noctis sputtered out in his defense as he hurriedly put a good foot of space between himself and the soldier. Prompto didn't bother to point out that he'd actually found Ignis and Gladio to be very discreet during his time travelling with them, but he let Noctis have this and stifled a laugh instead. It was good to laugh. Good to know that they hadn't been pushed so far as if to break.

* * *

The four of them had shared a gourmet meal of piping hot Cup Noodles procured from the vending machine. A still functional kettle had been produced from the kitchenette and then they were good to go. Ignis reminded them to drink water, especially since the instant treat was salty, and Prompto took the opportunity to wash the remaining filth from his face.

Belly full, Noctis sighed and threaded his fingers with Prompto's. The soldier was leaning heavily on him, no doubt exhausted from his ordeal. It'd been nice that the four of them could share a meal and pretend that everything was fine, that they were still on the road on the way to a wedding, but now it was difficult to ignore the deep, scabbing cut across the bridge of Prompto's nose, the way his bottom lip split and stung when he spoke.

Noctis was about to suggest sleep when the soldier lift his head, clearing his throat. He drew his hand from the king's and took a deep breath. “I should fill you all in,” he said quietly, almost timidly. While he spoke, white fingers curled around his opposite wrist, thumb worrying roughly at the barcode there.

“No pressure,” Noctis assured, placing a hand over Prompto's to still him.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed, Gladio nodded.

“No.” Prompto spoke again. “You deserve to know. About the empire, about Ardyn, about _me_.”

“I guess...” The soldier's blue eyes turned upwards, flickering towards a spot on the ceiling. “It started when I was five or six, maybe? I got really sick, really quickly. It hurt to breathe, I didn't have an appetite. Well, my dad was a Doctor, one of the best-- The Empire's medical technology has always been ahead of Lucis', no offence. He was pretty confident that he could diagnose me. Cure me. Uhm.”

Noctis watched as Prompto's expression changed, brow furrowing. Either he was searching his memory, or pushing through a particularly difficult one. Wanting to encourage him, Noctis squeezed his hand. When Prompto squeezed back, he relented and instead drew circles with his thumb over the smooth back of his hand.

“...So I was nine when he decided that there wasn't anything he could do. I was so... I couldn't even travel from home to the hospital anymore for treatment, so I ended up living on base with my dad once the emperor ordered him to shift his practice to military medic, because of the war and all... I stopped seeing my mom so much, and... and Ardyn started showing up. I don't know where he came from, or how he rose through rank so quickly. Being on the base, it made my dad's interests shift. Ardyn convinced him to start making weapons instead of treating wounds, to make people stronger with daemon blood. A-at first my dad thought it was ridiculous; daemons are dangerous. But, Ardyn had a way with them and he made it easy to collect samples.”

“Then, I...” Prompto's voice cracked slightly and he paused. Neither of the other men in the room moved or spoke. The soldier worried at his busted lip with his teeth, much to Noctis' dismay. He watched Prompto tip his head back and blink away tears, he wanted to trace the line of his curved throat with kisses. He wanted to whisper something sweet to the waiting flesh there.

“Dad thought that he could take the sick and make them stronger. _A broken soldier is a useless soldier_. He thought he could... Use the daemon blood to...”

Prompto's eyes darted to the case set on the floor with the rest of their provisions, foul memories flooding in. He wouldn't paint such pictures for his friends, especially not Noctis. He didn't want them to know the extent of how he suffered; the labs, the tests, the injections. He wouldn't tell them how his body had begun to reject the treatment, how the scourge both strengthened and ailed him. Prompto's body had begun a slow decay then, and it was still unraveling today.

“ _Starscourge_ , they called it. A disease that turned people into daemons. People were being purposely infected and then, through a refining process, what's left of them is put into the armour-- That's how... Magitek Troopers are made.

“Uhm. I... I was too sick to take to the treatment,” he whispered. “So, I never quite made it to the next phase, but my dad... He... he was determined. I might have not been a complete success, but at least I could get out of bed. So, he gave me my... my number when I was thirteen and then I started military drills and basic training.”

Prompto's voice wavered, hovering between so many emotions; exhaustion, fear, sadness and shame. Noctis could see the tears forming, welling up hot and threatening in the corners of his eyes.

“Slowly, human soldiers were replaced by Magitek Infantry, but my dad... didn't like the thought of failure. He sent me out to Lucis, to you. I was supposed to bring you to Altissia or die trying. If I made it, he'd be satisfied. If I didn't... well...”

“I think we've heard enough,” Noctis said, the sharpness in his voice accidental. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been squeezing Prompto's hand, seething. He was angry with Ardyn, with the Empire.

“His majesty has a point.” Ignis' voice cut the tension as he moved to stand, Gladio following and sliding a hand to the small of the shorter man's back. “We have... a _very_ long night ahead of us.”

* * *

“Do you honestly think he'll come back for you?”

The question was posed as if Ardyn already knew the answer, the closing end of it curling with the dark of his smile.

“I'm... not playing this game with you,” Prompto sneered, spitting out the blood in his mouth and gulping down an uninterrupted breath. As Ardyn stepped closer, the soldier pressed himself impossibly closer to cold metal, craning his neck and turning his head away. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for another bout of pain.

He could feel how close the Chancellor had gotten, feel the tickle of warm, rotten breath on his skin. There was something tucked just behind the villain's lips, a horrible darkness that Prompto did not want to meet, and yet-- it felt familiar, welcoming even.

“Do you think he _cares_ for you?”

Cold steel at his throat and warm lips at his ear.

“The King of Lucis with a a Niflheim soldier, and not even a proper one at that!” He clicked his tongue in disappointment, angling the knife so that the tip broke skin, coaxing warm blood from beneath the surface.

“How do you end a sick dog's suffering?”

Prompto twitched. Ardyn's voice had melted away into something more steely, aloof and cruel instead of teasing. When the soldier opened his eyes, he was met with the familiar grey-blue of Noctis' stare, peering out from behind an unruly fringe.

“Even if it's good and loyal,” Noctis breathed, dragging the knife slowly across a sky of freckled skin. His other hand held his hip, sliding up the hem of his shirt and bunching the material. Slender fingers glided over Prompto's heaving chest, nails raking, meeting the trail of black blood trickling steady from Prompto's neck.

The soldier's body arched, unwillingly pressing into Noctis' touch, hoping for some remnant of affection from the King who was supposed to be his lover. The restraints cut into his wrists, but he didn't care anymore-- if this was his life now, if he was stuck in this loop he'd at least hold onto having Noctis near.

“Noct,” he pleaded softly, whimpering as the King pressed wet, open kisses to the expanse of his throat. “Please let me down. This isn't you.”

The kisses stopped and Noctis tensed. Prompto all but screamed as something cut into the yielding cage of his chest. At first he thought it was the knife, but now he hung there, struggling to breathe as fingers wrapped around his still beating heart.

He writhed, taking great heaving breaths and trying to meet Noctis' eyes. The same thick black sludge that coursed through Prompto's veins; the Starscourge came bubbling up from his throat, pouring out of his wounds and choking him. Panic set in and he felt the feral beast take over, the instinct to survive, to fight, kill, and win. He growled, jaws snapping at the king.

“Dying animals,” Noctis chuckled through Prompto's primal snarls, hand closing over his mouth and shoving his head back. “Should be put out of their misery.”

* * *

Prompto woke with a start, covered in sweat and blinking into the dark. That's right... They were still in the barrack, somewhere deep in the belly of Zegnautus Keep. All four of them were here and safe, Prompto simply hadn't remembered falling asleep.

He panted, shifting in Noct's hold and hearing his mumbles of concern. In his fit he'd woke the King, apparently.

“'M okay,” Prompto exhaled, trying to keep quiet so that Ignis and Gladio wouldn't wake up. He couldn't see the two of them in the dark, but he could assume they shared a bed, sleeping comfortably in one another's embrace.

“You don't sound okay,” Noctis pressed, touching Prompto's face and frowning when he found it damp with sweat. He shifted beneath the covers and propped himself up on one elbow, eventually able to make out the soldier's features once his eyes had adjusted to the dark. “You don't... have to put on a brave face, you know. You've been through a lot and we're here for you. I'm here for you.”

Noctis smiled, leaning over and gently pushing at Prompto's shoulder until he'd rolled onto his back. With some struggle and worrisome creaking from the mattress, the King had settled on the soldier's hips, knees on either side of him. “This okay?” He asked, waiting before he touched.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto replied, though he couldn't help but glance to his left, where Ignis and Gladio slept.

“They'll be fine,” Noctis assured. “Hell, they've probably gotten up to worse than us by now, y'know?” The last bit came out a little sadly, for Noctis didn't have to say what they were thinking. None of them had any idea of how this was going to end. Was this the last time they'd all sleep in the same room? Was the meagre offering of instant noodles the last meal they'd share?

Prompto nodded, then lift his head from the pillow, his hands coming up to hold Noct's shoulders. The King leaned down, soft black hair tickling Prompto's cheeks as they kissed, warm and slow. Prompto hoped that he didn't taste different than before, he hoped Noct's tongue wasn't met with the foul rot of scourge.

“...Thinking about kissing me at a time like this,” he whispered, breathless. This was the Noctis he knew, the tender and cautious boy hidden behind a mask of carelessness.

“You had a bad dream,” Noctis said with a sympathetic smile, “you need a distraction.”

A wink and then Noctis was sliding down, fingers curling at the waistband of Prompto's boxers, sliding them down past his knees.

“ _Noct_...” Prompto didn't think he'd be able to stay quiet, especially while he watched the king slide back up his body, hands smooth against his abdomen and chest.

Noctis replied by covering Prompto's mouth with his own, tongue swiping apologetically over his busted lip. “I'm sorry,” he breathed one final time, hand slipping between them and brushing over the soldier's chest. He'd make Prompto feel so good that he'd forget, even if it was only for a little while.

Moving his lips to the blond's throat, Noctis kissed and blazed a loving trail with lips and teeth, fighting the urge to mark him up too much, reminding himself to be gentle with the abused body beneath him. He could feel Prompto's throat work as he swallowed, his breaths coming shorter, shallower. Satisfied with that, the King brushed his thumbs over Prompto's nipples, circling the hardened flesh and feeling him shudder under the pleasing sensations. Noctis waited a moment, then replaced his thumb with his lips, sucking and licking until the soldier was arching, drawing one knee up and curling his toes into the flimsy mattress. He paused to watch him struggle not to moan.

“Ssh...” Noctis warned, but in reality, he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear how good Prompto felt, he wanted to be the one to take him away from this hellhole tonight.

He could already feel Prompto getting hard between them, and Noctis was getting there too. He wished that he had time to draw this out, make it last, but they did need their rest and the world waited outside these four walls. Still, Noctis tried not to think about that as he slipped further down Prompto's body, hands gently easing his thighs apart.

“Noct,” Prompto sighed, bending his neck just in time to watch the King press his lips to his thigh.

The King smiled, face still turned to the warmth of his skin. Prompto shivered, sighing as Noctis finally touched him, taking his cock in hand and stroking a few times before doing the unthinkable and pushing the head past his lips. He threw an arm over his mouth as he moaned, feeling Noct's mouth take him further, almost to the hilt.

A wet sound and Prompto's hips jerked, only for Noctis to hold him steady and take control. He bobbed his head, sucking, licking, making obscene sounds that proper royalty would have no doubt frowned upon.

* * *

Noctis held onto Prompto, cheeks pink from past arousal and fresh tears. Curled together while Prompto cried against his chest. Noctis heard him sob;

“H-he wasn't a bad person... M-my dad. It was A-Ardyn...”

The King sighed, kissing the top of Prompto's head and let his fingers trace the dip of the boy's spine. He was glad that Prompto was finally crying, letting it out. He didn't agree with the soldier's statement, but understood. Prompto wanted to protect that illusion, to think that there was still good in people.


	11. atrophy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's... a little bit of Cindy/Prompto here but... I promise it's not... Getting in the way of the glorious ship, lmao.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. Pls tell me what you think and... pls talk to me about ffxv on tumblr: mvgitek.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, amicitia-scientia on tumblr drew a wickedgood fanart of Gladio helping blind Ignis shave and I fell in love so that's... a thing that happened.
> 
> ALSO HEY. I REALLY SUCK AT WRITING FIGHTING/ACTION/BATTLES. PLS FORGIVE ME.

The keep was eerily quiet as the four of them pressed on, as if Ardyn was finished testing them, proven Noctis and his retainers worthy of making it to the end, of retrieving the crystal. The air around them hung heavy and tense, all four men ready to strike should the need arise.

Protect themselves. Protect the King.

Soon, the winding halls opened up to reveal a large hangar where dozens of Magitek armour suits lay dormant, waiting patiently for their helmsmen in the dark.

“It's almost too quiet,” Ignis said, shaking his head. He hadn't heard anything aside from their footsteps for what he supposed was about half-an-hour now--if his internal clock was still functioning correctly.

“Mm,” Noctis hummed in agreement as Gladio and Prompto took the first few steps into the large space. The former deftly gripping his blade, the latter instinctively flicking the safety on his pistols. Blue eyes darted to the closest armour and he judged the amount of time it would take him to sprint to it, climb inside and activate the machine should the need arise.

His attention was drawn, however by a shift in the air, the familiar stench of daemon invading his senses before anything else. “Guys,” he warned, just as great pools of dark liquid opened up in the floor. From the emptiness came twisting tendrils of dark mist. First claws, then heads and torsos, followed by a myriad of bloodthirsty, otherworldly creatures.

Gladio wasted no time in rushing forward to deal the first blows, cleaving Daemon flesh left and right while Prompto hung back to cover him in a rain of precise gunshots. He hardly faltered when Ignis moved to stand beside him, touching his forearm with one hand. Prompto felt magic flow from the advisor and into him, holy light burning down his forearm and setting his fingers alight. The magic was drawn to his weapon, wrapped the bullets he was squeezing off on an ethereal glow.

“If I might be of assistance,” Ignis said with a curt nod, his polearm drawn. He was content to support them, knowing that his crutch might be a liability in such a large fray.

Overhead, a crackle of blue electricity as Noctis warped from one corner of the room to the other, slicing down daemons left and right while all thirteen royal arms swirled around him, each weapon at his instant disposal and bathing the King in a dazzling blue light.

“They keep coming!” Gladio roared, calling up a shield from the ether and bashing an imp that had deigned to sneak up behind him. “We gotta think of something.”

Prompto rolled away from an incoming onslaught of tooth and claw, matching the daemon's snarl with one of his own. There were too many monsters in the room, he could no longer shoot at a safe distance. He switched tactics, calling on the saw he'd found all the way back at the Disc. The Magitek weapon roared to life and the soldier tore the creature in two, satisfaction pooling in his gut once it fell. He was beyond thinking of anything now, lost in the thrill of the hunt and the buzz of his chainsaw.

“His majesty will go alone,” Ignis called from where he stood close to Gladio for cover, two deadly daggers now occupying gloved hands. “Prompto! Do you think you can open the door?”

“W-what about you guys!?” Noctis shouted over the daemons' roars.

“We'll handle it,” Gladio grunted. “Prompto. Wake up! The _door_!”  
  
Noctis wanted to protest, but he knew that this was their only chance. Once he found the crystal, he could turn the tide anyway. He had to trust them. Gladio, Ignis, Prompto...

The soldier nearly stumbled, swinging his saw haphazardly as awareness slammed back into him. “R-right,” he yelled back, spotting the panel a short distance from him. “I'll open it for as long as I can, but we're gonna wanna keep the daemons stuck in here.”

“Alright.” Noctis relented, heaving his sword and throwing it to the air. The blade lodged itself high above the fray and the king flew after it in a flurry of sparks.

Prompto took it as his cue and ran, dropping his weapon back into nothingness and careening forward as he sprinted towards the wall, dropping and sliding across the floor to avoid tooth and claw as he closed the distance between himself and the panel. “Noct, go!” He screamed, slamming his wrist into the device, hardly hearing the affirmative 'beep' over the chaos.

Seconds later, he closed the door. All that was left of the King was an imprint of bright blue magic, proof that he had been there, that they had fought together.

* * *

 

The waves of daemons seemed endless.

Prompto had no idea how much time had gone by, but even as his muscles burned and sweat dripped from his pores, he fought on. It was easier to once he'd given in to the adrenaline inside of him. The acrid burning in his throat and the way his body flared with a primal desire to win were what pushed him forward.

And then it was over.

Gladio relinquished his blade with a flourish and finally let his shoulders sag, throwing his head back and breathing deeply. “He did it,” came the gruff realization.

“Then we'll go to him,” Ignis decided.

Still panting, Prompto tossed his head to clear the haze around his eyes. He wiped the sweat from his brow and then held his head in his hands for the briefest of moments, fighting off a wave of nausea. “Y-yeah,” he quipped. “Let's do it.”

A long, narrow path extended before them, a bridge over nothingness leading straight to he crystal. Noctis, however was nowhere to be found. In his place, Ardyn stood, basking in the holy light. He seemed pleased with himself.

The Shield grit his teeth, rushing forward with his blade drawn and slicing through the man, who stood as calmly as if Gladio had been little more than a breeze ruffling his auburn hair. “Iggy, stay back,” he growled.

Prompto was next, boots echoing off the empty walls as he unloaded his clips. Gunshots rang through the silence, and when he ran out of ammo, Ardyn remained unscathed and silent as he brushed past the Crownsguard.

The soldier didn't miss the look on his face, scourge dripping from his maniacal features, but he didn't dare follow. Instead, Prompto ran for the crystal, swerving around Gladio to get to it. “Where'd he go?” the fair-haired boy wailed, ignoring the sting of the crystal's holy glow. “ _Bring him back!_ ”

Prompto screamed, fingers finding purchase on the crystal's rocky surface, skin practically igniting at the contact. The light bruised his skin, searing him from the outside and willing him away. Banishing him like every other product of the darkness.

“Prompto--” Gladio tried, neither himself or Ignis wanting to witness the soldier's suffering any longer; the pungent smell of daemon's blood and burning flesh filling up the room.

“Noct! _Noct_!”

He shook his head wildly, finally made to cry out from the pain. Despite everything, he finally wrenched himself from the crystal and stumbled back. “Noct,” he cried again, voice cracking and weak. Face twisted in despair and anguish, he stared at his filthy, seared hands right before heaving into them. He choked on the dark, lifting black and orange eyes to find both Gladio and Ignis; to plead with them for help.

Inky sludge seeped through the spaces between his fingers. “We ha--”

The rest of his words were swallowed by the dark.

* * *

“You just about done there, hun?”

Prompto stopped what he was doing, grabbing hold of the car and using it as leverage to roll out from underneath it. One hand still clutching the body, the other a wrench, he glanced up at the mechanic and offered his best attempt at a smile. “Yeah Cindy, gimme five.”

“No rush, sweetheart. Just bringing by somethin' t'eat,” she paused, “and I'm hopin' that you _do_ eat it this time.”

The blond pursed his lips, putting down the wrench and trying not to sigh. Cindy had told him not to rush, but he knew what she really meant; behind the cheerful lit of her accent. He got to his feet and moved to the workbench, grabbing a towel to wipe his hands and face. Then, he turned to the mechanic and tired another smile, this one better than the last. It wasn't that he wasn't happy to see her... He just wasn't _happy_ at all anymore.

“Takka made it fresh,” she continued, “so eat up while it's hot.”

Cindy set the modest plastic table up with two bowls of thin broth and what looked like hard bread. Prompto was grateful for that, at least-- soup was easier to keep down than solid food.

He collapsed into the chair opposite Cindy and thanked her, picking up his spoon and setting it in the bowl.

“Is my--”

“Your bike is ready,” Cindy interjected, wagging her spoon at him in an accusatory manner. “You gotta be more careful. I dunno what you're doin' gallivanting through all those old Niff bases, but I wish you'd...”

She trailed off, some of the light leaving her vibrant green eyes. She took off her cap and tossed it to the table, ashen curls bobbing as she lowered her head.

“Sorry,” she said, and in an instant, Prompto felt awful. He reached across the table and took her hand.

Cindy was just... being herself. None of this was her fault at all. She and Prompto had become quite close over the last few years and the former soldier was grateful for the companionship just as much as he wished she would fret over someone worth worrying about.

Ten years ago, Noctis had disappeared and the eternal nights began. Daemons prowled freely over all of Eos, rendering it a literal wasteland. Most of the population had traveled to Lestallum, the lights from the power plant there being enough to keep the monsters at bay. Hammerhead was now a bastion for hunters, those brave enough to fight and forage for food and supplies.

For the first few months, Prompto had stayed in Lestallum with Ignis and Gladio, helping refugees and taking on whatever jobs he could. The dark hadn't bothered him like it had most people, in fact he felt drawn to the deep unknowns lying just beyond what was left of the electric light.

Ignis had taken up the practice of learning braille and began to study both daemons, and the scourge, as well as anything related to the prophecy. Gladio and Iris both worked to form different chapters of hunter groups, but the former shield spent less time on the battlefield as the months wore on, content instead to help Ignis regain his independence; to be there for him.

A year passed by, and even though Prompto had been very careful with his rationing, the case he'd stolen from Ridorana Garrison had emptied. Without his injections, Prompto's illness came back with a vengeance. Eventually, he had to come clean to Ignis and Gladio, admit that he was... essentially dying. Of course they wanted to help, so he set off when they weren't looking. He'd made a decision to survive, to fight tooth and nail against the hand he'd been dealt. Prompto searched all of Lucis for the remains of Imperial bases and camps raiding them of whatever supplies he could use to prolong the decay.

Prompto _couldn't_ die until he saw Noctis one last time-- he would live so that he could tell him...

He stifled a cough and sat back down, appeasing Cindy by trying the tasteless broth.

Two years ago, Prompto had checked his meticulous maps and charts and realized he'd robbed every single stronghold within his reach. A few months after that, he ran out of refined scourge. Still, he went out when he was feeling strong enough, holding on to hope.

Now, he settled in Hammerhead and left the garage less and less as his illness crept up on him. Cindy kept him company and he helped her with the garage work so that she could help the hunters. He kept to himself for the most part, save for when the loneliness became too much. The first time he'd kissed Cindy, he'd been ashamed of himself for it, but she had pet down his hair and laughed.

“I know you've got eyes _and_ a heart for the king,” she had said with a wink, “don't feel bad fer thinkin' what every other boy is thinkin' when he looks at me.” Cindy had also said that she was glad she could be there for him, and deep down Prompto was glad that he could be there for her too.

The endless night had ruined everyone's sleep cycles, so after they'd eaten, Cindy looked at her wristwatch and frowned. “You should get some sleep once you finish up with that girl,” she nodded towards the car he'd been working on when she'd entered.

“Yeah,” Prompto said, distracted. “Y'know Cindy, maybe you should... Go back to Lestallum soon and see your grandpa.”

Laughing, Cindy shook her head. She knew what Prompto was doing, trying to get her to go somewhere safe and quiet so that he'd be able to wallow on his own and not feel so guilty about her always taking care of him.

“Paw paw'd kill me himself if I left the garage in yer hands, sugar.”

* * *

 

When he spent the night with Cindy, Prompto usually slept in her living quarters, a modest space attached to the back of the garage. Right now, he wanted privacy though, so he retreated to the caravan parked on the edge of the rest station. The space had become his unofficial base of operations. Prompto didn't lock it or anything, but hunters steered clear of it anyway, unless they needed him for something.

“H-hey. Prompto right?”

Prompto stopped outside the caravan, one foot on the steel steps, and turned his head.

“Yeah?”

Over his shoulder stood a young man about Iris' age, dressed in the black of the hunters. He had a rifle in one hand, where the tail of a meticulously detailed Leviathan tattoo coiled around his wrist and danced all the way up his arm. He looked a little timid, as if it was Prompto who was holding the gun and pointing it at him with intent to shoot.

“Dave told me ya'd look at this if I asked. I can pay. I've got a bag o' rice in my truck.”

Hunters. The gunman didn't know what they thought of him these days; an Imperial deserter who once traveled with the prince of Lucis. He didn't speak much and he hardly ate, but he could fix and upgrade their weapons and vehicles with the expertise expected of a Niff.

Prompto's shoulders slumped, but he stepped down from the stairs and took the weapon from the hunter, not missing the way the kid stared at his wrist, eyeing the barcode with some morbid fascination. The soldier didn't keep it covered anymore, but he'd learned that it made people uneasy. Maybe a part of him liked that, however. Maybe a part of him wanted others to be wary. All these years and Prompto hadn't come closer to knowing himself, to knowing how to keep the animal at bay.

“Keep your rice,” he grunted, inspecting the weapon. He passed it between his scarred palms, the burns of the crystal never really healing. “I'll... have this back to you in a few hours.”

“Th-thanks!”

Prompto watched the hunter hurry off and he slung the rifle over his shoulder before heading inside.

He let the screen door shut behind him and set the weapon down to attend to later. First, he helped himself to a shower so that he might wash off the grease and let the warm spray of water ease his ever-weary muscles. Once he was clean, he pulled on some pants and didn't bother much with his hair aside from rubbing it down with a towel. He'd learned not to look in the mirror, unable to come to terms with his own exhausted expression, the red and black circles beneath his eyes. He couldn't stand how sick he looked, how much muscle he seemed to lose every time he got out of bed. As a result, he was growing a little bit of a beard-- Cindy had said it made him look older, more mature.

Prompto flopped down onto the bed, sitting on the edge and looking to the map and scraps of paper he'd tacked up to the wall. He'd been documenting his coverage of the country, of where he might still find supplies for himself, and for the hunters. Maybe... Maybe if he searched every square inch, he'd even find--

The gunman frowned, pressing a hand to his chest as if to ease an ache, fingers brushing up against the painful scar of his heart.

He was fine with dying, he just wished that it didn't have to be alone.

* * *

 

Prompto must have fallen asleep while he worked on the rifle-- it seemed that he spent more time asleep than awake these days. He woke up to the curtain drawn on the bunk, a dull yellow light casting shadows on the fabric. The sound of hushed voices confirmed his sleepy suspicions that he wasn't alone in the caravan.

“...Be sure too--”

“I've got you, babe.”

There was no mistaking who those voices belonged to, but Prompto couldn't piece together why he was hearing them here. With a grunt, the gunman drew back the curtain and slid out of bed. The scene before him was just as bizarre as it was endearing and... right.

Ignis sat up on the counter beside the sink while Gladio, holding his chin with carefulness one might have not expected from someone such as he. His other hand pulled a razor across the smooth skin of the seated man's jaw, shaving off the fine hair that had grown in.

“Uh. Heya,” Prompto greeted weakly, rubbing at his eyes to make sure they weren't still laden with sleep.

“Good morning, Prompto.” Ignis opened his good eye, the clouded iris unseeing and certainly not focused on anything in particular. “I hope you don't mind... this.”

“Iggy couldn't stand not looking his best for his Majesty,” Gladio grunted, laughing as he wet a towel with warm water from the sink. After wringing it out, he gently dabbed Ignis' freshly-shaved face and throat.

“ _Gladio_!” The adviser hissed at the mention of Noctis and the Shield immediately realized his error and pulled away, tossing the towel aside and glancing to Prompto.

Prompto might have laughed had he not been more focused on the words. On Gladio's regrettable expression and Ignis' sharp features. His Majesty? The King? _Noctis_? Where? He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He stared at his former companions, mouth agape.

Sensing the silence had gone on too long, Ignis spoke up as he slid from the counter and back onto his feet. “We've received word from Talcott,” he explained, fixing the sleeves on his dress shirt and then smoothing out the soft material. “There is a chance that it isn't him, Prompto. So please, do not get yourself too excited. We didn't want to disappoint you should the information be inaccurate.”

“My bad,” Gladio said with a shrug. “But you're the one who decided to make the trek here, Iggy so it's gotta be good intel. We came down as soon as we heard, after saying good-bye to Cid and Iris, of course.”

“Yes, well there was still no cause to be brash, darling.”  
  
Gladio and Ignis' bickering faded into the background while Prompto stood there, useless and half-dressed. Noctis. Noctis... The name almost sounded foreign as it rang through the confines of his skull, rattled in his chest and kicking his heart back into a reluctant, but steady rhythm.

Please... Please let this be real.

“...a little skinnier.”

“Huh?”

Gladio was holding Prompto's wrist, lifting his arm slightly. His touch was again, surprisingly gentle and his lips were pursed tight with concern. He and Ignis swam back into existence and both of them regarded him with unbridled worry.

“Have you been keeping track of your injections,” Ignis asked. After all, he was the one who first suggested Prompto keep a schedule. Each time he took a dose, Prompto had been trying to extend the time between the next. He needed what little he had left to last.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto breathed, feeling a little invaded, but knowing he couldn't blame the two of them. They were the parents he never had, and now he had left them without even saying a word. His cheeks burned, and Gladio released him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder instead. “Get dressed, kid. We've got a potential meeting with the king.”

“Yeah,” he repeated, dazed.  
  
Ignis and Gladio left the trailer so that Prompto could dress and clean himself up. Unlike Ignis, he didn't bother shaving, but he did pull on a shirt and jacket before pausing to comb his fingers through his hair. Before he stepped outside, Prompto reached for his pistols and holster, bringing them outside with him along with the rifle he'd finished up for the hunter.

“Ready,” he called, setting the rifle down against the side of the caravan for the kid to pick up and nodding to his friends. The three of them together was just as surreal as the idea of seeing Noctis again after ten long, dark years that he really didn't feel much of anything. Still, something warm fluttered inside the cavity of his chest when Gladio slung an arm around him and Ignis offered a friendly pat to his shoulder.

“It's good to have you with us,” he said quietly.

The three walked across the asphalt as the distant sound of an engine cut through the dark. The two hunters guarding the gate both exchanged looks as one referred to his buzzing radio. As it pulled into view, Prompto recognized it as Talcott's truck. Watching the vehicle enter the station and the gate clamour closed behind it was agonizing. He needed to know, right now who – if anyone – Talcott had found alone in the dark.

The passenger door flung open and Umbra hopped out first, turning tail and barking at the passenger, tail wagging happily.

A figure dressed in black followed, and Prompto's heart was in his throat.

“Guys...”

Noctis' voice sounded gravelly and different, but there was no mistaking it. Ten years had made his fatigues look out of place on his body, too immature for his now rugged features and unruly midnight hair.

Soon, they were all pressed impossibly close, the three of them all somehow managing to get their arms around the king in a very unceremonious embrace that was ten years too late.

“Took you long enough,” Gladio teased, while Ignis hid tears behind one hand.

“Ignis. Gladio. Talcott told me all about what you guys have been up to. I... I'm grateful.” Noctis knew he shouldn't have expected anything less from his retainers. Even while he was gone they'd put their talents towards serving their country and its people.

“Of course, Majesty,” Ignis spoke, though his words were stunted; embarrassed to cry.

By now, Prompto had stepped back, comfortable in his silence and suddenly mortified by the sight of Noctis, here in the flesh. Unlike Ignis and Gladio, he'd done nothing. He'd holed up at the garage and pretended to be okay, he'd wanted to, Gods he did, but all he could manage was to barely scrape by-- to stay alive. He couldn't tell Noctis that, not without divulging his secret. If Noctis knew he was sick, he wouldn't concentrate on his duties as King, as the one who would bring the light. It was the reason he hadn't told them all those years ago in the barracks at the keep. Now Ignis and Gladio knew, but they wouldn't dare let it slip.

“Prompto.”

Everything had sped up when Noctis said his name. Gladio and Ignis looked on as the prince approached the former soldier. He took Prompto's slender wrist in one hand and tugged him close. The gunman looked up, blue eyes wide and searching Noctis' steely gaze while the king held his chin between his fingers and thumb.

“Noct,” he choked. There was so much he wanted to say, but it came out in a mess of tears. He cried the same way he had on the night the crystal had swallowed up the King. He dragged ten years of agonizing waiting to the surface, letting it bubble and boil over. He held Noctis' face in his shaking hands and focused on the King's misty eyes, the slight quiver in his lip.

“Please don't leave me again,” he begged between tears. It hurt to draw breath, but he didn't care anymore. He could die right here and be perfectly fine with it. Let the scourge take him, let him drop dead, become a daemon, lose his mind. It was selfish, but for _once_ Prompto wanted to be. Did he not deserve something for himself?

“I love you, so... I'll follow you a-anywhere, okay? Noct, I'm yours. Don't leave again.” He sniffed, then mashed their lips together in a desperate kiss. He fit himself easily against Noctis just as he was supposed to. He shook with fear, excitement, sorrow, joy, and need as Noct's hands slid to the small of his back.

While Noctis didn't promise anything, he did break their kiss with a sad sort of smile, only to lean back in and offer a much more tender, loving gesture. They kissed again and then Noctis' wiped at Prompto's tears, one arm still around his waist and his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm here right now,” he promised.

* * *

 

Once they had all calmed down, they headed back to the garage. The hunters, Takka, and Cindy all welcomed back the King and insisted that the four of them eat. The entire time, Prompto's leg jiggled beneath the table with obvious anxiousness. He hardly ate, and the only thing keeping him from floating away was Noctis' hand settled on the curve of his hip.

It was decided then that they'd rest before heading out. The four of them knew what needed to be done. It would take a few hours for them to make it to Insomnia from here and the daemons they'd encounter on the way would not make the trek easy. The plan was to set up camp somewhere near the city before heading in, to make sure that they were all fully prepared for whatever Ardyn had waiting in the darkness.

* * *

 

Ignis and Gladio had taken Prompto's caravan and Cindy had offered the room she used at the back of the garage to he and Noctis.

“Now that the King's here, I think I can take the trip up to Lestallum and see Paw Paw,” she said. “Talcott's bright enough to hold down the fort an' you... yer gonna be just fine, sweetheart.”

She'd leaned in then, kissing Prompto on the cheek. Before she could turn away, Prompto grabbed her hand and smiled, honestly. “Cindy. Thank you. I would've given up a long time ago if you hadn't stuck around.”

Shaking her head, the mechanic simply tipped her cap before climbing up into the truck, it's bright yellow paint job a beacon in the dark. From inside the great contraption, Prompto couldn't see the glimmer of tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. “You take care now,” she said, revving the engine and leaning out the open window. “Bring back the sun, y'hear?”

* * *

 

When Prompto opened the door to Cindy's room, Noctis was already there. He'd made use of the shower and scrubbed away the grime from his aged features. His long hair was still a damp, touching his bare shoulders and parted in the middle so that it framed his face. Prompto still couldn't believe it was him. Noctis. The King in the flesh.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out. His voice was deeper, but still laced with the same easiness he'd always carried himself with. “C'mere.”

Prompto obeyed, closing the door behind him and standing in front of Noctis. The king let his knees fall apart and he tugged the gunman between them; closer.

“You look different,” the King continued, steely gaze doing an obvious up and down. Whether he liked what he saw or not, Prompto didn't know.

“Ten years will do that to you.”

Prompto felt weak. He sank to the floor in front of Noctis and shamelessly rest his head on the King's thigh, cheek nuzzling into his bare skin. “I might cry again,” he admitted, closing his eyes.

“Don't,” Noctis said like it was nothing, but his tone was soothing and he ran his fingers through Prompto's soft, obviously washed hair. “Ignis and Gladio are worried about you. They told me you left them back in Lestallum and...” Noctis let his hand slide down. He touched a finger to the little scruff of blond goatee on Prompto's chin. “In _ten years_ this is the best you can do.”

The soldier's weariness faded and he swatted Noctis' hand away, frowning as the king began to laugh. “You're... still such an asshole and now I can't even do anything about it because you're the king.” He sighed, opening his wide blue eyes and pinning Noctis under a pleading gaze. “Oh, your _most gracious majesty_ , please don't have me executed for inadequate facial hair.”

The two of them shared a laugh and the sound rang out warm. There was hardly reason to laugh anymore, but now that they were together, there was a chance that things could go back to how they were. Dawn was within their grasp... The hope inspired by Noctis' presence wore off some of the fatigue, and Prompto managed to clamber up his body, settling in his lap and taking in the scent of his freshly washed skin.

“But really,” Noctis breathed, cupping the back of Prompto's head to keep him close as their lips brushed together. “I'm worried.”

“ _Everyone's_ tired,” Prompto deflected, closing the distance between them. There was a rumble in his throat as he nipped at Noctis' lip. He wanted, once more to leave a mark, a lasting impression that he had once been here and he had once betrayed his homeland to serve the King of Lucis.

The King could have pressed on, but instead he let his hands fall to Prompto's hips, unable to ignore the stirring in his guts. Ten years he'd gone without so much as the presence of another human being. He'd been alone inside the crystal as he recounted the events of his life; all of his choices, losses, and gains. Noctis had learned what it'd meant to be The King, and after wanting so desperately to fight the destiny he'd been given, he'd come to accept it sometime during his ten year reflection.

Everyone had given up everything for him. The crownsguard, his father, Gladio and his family, Ignis, Luna... Prompto.

He was at peace with the notion of repaying them. His life for the lives of many. Noctis was content to let fate take him, but that didn't mean he still couldn't indulge what was still being given.

Huffing as Prompto's teeth sank into his lip, Noctis pushed back by squeezing his hips, arranging the boy's lithe body so that he could carefully unclip the holsters from his belt. “Won't need these,” he chuckled as he set the weapons on the ground. Then, he worked on Prompto's belt.

“Take your shirt off,” Noctis exhaled, pushing the offending fabric up his midriff and then backing off so that Prompto could comply. He smiled at the sight, but something had his pause. Nestled beneath the curve of his pelvis, a little crescent moon stood out in stark black ink.

“You got a tattoo.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Prompto replied, flustered. His freckled cheeks grew warm and pink, as he watched Noctis thumb the ink skin.

“The hunters are really into tattoos. I... I didn't want to forget what you and Luna have done for me. I wanted...” He paused, humming as if he wasn't sure how to continue, or perhaps embarrassed to. Noctis watched his expression with the patience of a saint, thumb tracing over the lines on Prompto's skin.

“I chose it,” he said quietly, a twitch in his features as he resisted the urge to worry at his wrist. It meant something to him, making the conscious decision to mark himself, to claim some sort of stake on a body that was never truly his own.

“I like it,” Noctis supplied, nodding. The two of them shared another kiss, and then he was back at working on getting Prompto out of his clothes. Once they were both naked, he pulled Prompto back into his lap and deepened their kisses, hands seeking out every inch of warm, freckled skin, its smoothness occasionally disrupted by old wounds and fresh scars. Eventually, he came up for air and replaced his lips with his fingers, groaning in approval as Prompto pushed them past his lips with one hand clutching his wrist.

“Gods,” he breathed, not above using the Six's names in vain if it mean complimenting Prompto. “Look at you.”

Eyes half-lidded and hazy blue, Prompto kept his gaze on Noctis the almost the entire time he sucked and licked at his probing fingers, but the part that got to the king the most was when the gunman closed his eyes and moaned, body shuddering atop of Noctis as if tasting his fingers was the most exceptional feeling in the world.

Arousal pooled inside of him, and the King had to pull his fingers away, especially when Prompto leaned in to make chase, licking at the calloused pads like a starving animal, chin slicked with drool.

“Noct.” His name sighed out so desperately was lyrical, ethereal. He might have been the king, but he'd bend his iron will to _anything_ for Prompto in this moment. Perhaps a little too enthusiastically, he let his hand slide down, massaging the soft flesh of the gunman's backside, warming him up before sliding one finger inside. “I hear you,” he agreed, huffing out a breath in attempt to blow some of his hair from his face, but sweat and heat has stuck the insufferable strands to his skin.

The rock of Prompto's hips was sinful, he gripped Noctis' shoulders and touched their foreheads together, breath hot against Noct's skin. It wasn't long before he'd added a second finger, feeling the stretch, and then a third. Once or twice he curled his fingers, delighting in the way the gunman shuddered, steady pace becoming unsure as he swooned. They went on like this until Prompto was keening, whimpering and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Noctis' earlobe in a last, desperate attempt for more.

“I... Ahh... A-as if ten years wasn't lo...long enough,” Prompto complained, gathering enough composure to slap Noctis' arm. “Fffuck me, Noct.”

“Bossy,” Noctis growled, but the boy had a point, and the King was definitely having a hard time keeping it together with the way Prompto was writhing atop him, all tight and hot. Still, he had to remind himself that this was it, this here was all they had. The darkness wasn't going anywhere, so the King would take his time, he would etch this memory so deeply into his skin that even his death couldn't take it.

Prompto's weight loss became even more apparent as Noctis lift him off his lap and eased him down onto the bed. He crawled over him, pinning his arms to the pillow above his head by his wrists, cool gaze narrowed at the sight of his scarred palms. He wouldn't ruin the moment by asking, but the flames licking in his gut at the idea of something marking Prompto like that were difficult to push aside. Instead, he used it as fuel. One hand moved to his cock, grunting as he pumped himself and slicked the length of it with precome.

At the blond's behest, he pushed inside, easing in until he was completely sheathed. Prompto was still so tight, so hot and familiar that Noctis fell forward. Palm pressed to the pillow, he shook as he leaned down to capture the boy's lips in another bruising kiss. Their tongues twined and Prompto met him with a growl, teeth gnashing at his lip before he could pull away.

With a grunt, Noctis grabbed Prompto's hip and pulled back, thrusting in hard and then repeating the action. At first, he worried about being too rough, but he could hardly contain what had piled up these ten long years, and Prompto... Prompto took it without complaint, mewling and writhing like a contented beast, a spoiled, beloved pet demanding his master's affections.

* * *

 

Prompto still groaned, even after he was spent. Noctis had pulled out and was smoothing down his hair, touching his feverish cheeks and kissing the creases away from his brow. If the king didn't know better, he would think the boy was in pain, what with the way his chest was heaving, rising and falling with short, greedy breaths.

“Prompto,” he called softly, the worry creeping up his spine. “Prompto, _talk to me._ ”

The soldier snarled, body twitching once before his hands shot up and grabbed Noctis by the hair. His eyes flew open, black bleeding from the iris and obscuring the whites. He captured the King in a bruising kiss, moaning out like a man starved, one leg wrapping around his waist to keep him there.

He kissed Noctis heatedly, all teeth and tongue as he drank from the king; sated some unholy hunger that had taken hold of him. Noct could scarcely breathe, but he tangled his fingers ruthlessly in Prompto's hair and _tugged_ , yanking his head back and forcing them apart. He let Prompto writhe and snap, his spine arching while Noctis sank his teeth into his neck. He bit down for as long as he needed to, feeling fingernails claw at his back, letting his own panic subside until he felt the corded muscle in Prompto's throat go slack.

A whimper, and the gunman lay still, save for his quiet breathing.

Noctis frowned, took a minute to gather himself and pressed an apologetic kiss to the teeth marks on Prompto's throat.

“Noct,” he wailed weakly. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm... not good anymore. I'm-- It's the night, it's the scourge. It hurts so much. _Ardyn did something to me back then_.”

“Shh,” the king soothed, shaking his head and moving up to kiss Prompto's lips. Something there tasted strange, almost acidic, but Noctis didn't let it show. “You're fine. You're perfect...”

Guilt tore at Noctis now as he smoothed Prompto's damp hair and moved to lie beside him; what would happen to Prompto once he was gone? Would the scourge take him...? would he become whatever they'd both just witnessed, or would his body give out trying to sustain it? Either way, Noctis wasn't going to be able to be here for him.

But maybe... Maybe the day would cure him. Maybe Noct's sacrifice was just what Prompto needed?

“Once I bring back the sun,” he assured, moving closer and tangling himself up with Prompto. He kissed him slowly, tasting all the good and the bad. “It'll go away. The Scourge, the dark.”

 


	12. the king

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got the FFXV piano collections and I'm listening to it while i write this THROUGH MY TEARS.
> 
> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments-- they keep me going! We're nearing the end here, but i'm very reluctant to let go of this little universe. I do have some little 'snippets' and outtakes that i might post in the future, so maybe look out for that. I also have... a little, kind of fun Gladnis one-shot in the works.
> 
> UHM. If ya'll ever want to check out my other fics, they're nowhere near as intricate as this one, so idk how disappointed you'll be in them, but I'd be happy if you did! They're all FFXV related, ahaha.
> 
> As always, pls find me on tumblr: mvgitek.tumblr.com – I'd love to chat!
> 
> I listened to Rilo Kiley - A Better Son/Daughter while I wrote this. There's an awesome line about being positive even thought it hurts and it just maaaaaaade this for me.

Noctis imagined the sunlight streaming through the little window by the bed. He imagined it kissing Prompto's pale skin like the freckles already dotting his shoulders, his cheeks. Noctis imagined the way it would cast a shine in his summery hair, form a halo around the crown of his head resting peacefully on the pillow. He imagined the warmth, beams of light bathing them both in gold fit for kings.

Instead, he had the moon. Although she was serene, although she watched over them both with her tranquil beauty, Noctis knew that she too needed rest. Her glow grew ever pale as the eternal nights stretched on. The moon couldn't shine without the sun...

It wasn't like Noctis to be awake before Prompto, (or before anyone, for that matter), but he understood the toll ten years had taken on his friends, he understood that there was something wrong with Prompto. The king didn't know the extend of it, and for that he felt an immeasurable guilt, but for what little time he had left he would make it right.

The King thought on what had happened last night, the panic he had felt, the fear that Prompto had instilled in him. What could Noct do? Other than take Ardyn on and end the spiral of night, he knew little about the science behind the soldier's medicinal woes... What he did know was what he saw: the frantic, black eyes of a predator. A daemon.

It hurt to think about, but it meant that Noctis' actions from here on out carried an even greater weight. He loved Prompto, and he was discovering that all over again as he carded one hand through golden hair. Noctis loved Prompto and he could only hope that his sacrifice gave him the chance that he deserved.

“I want so much for you,” he breathed to the sleeping soldier as he propped himself on his elbow. Gently, he tipped Prompto's chin towards his and kissed him warmly, delighting in the sleepy sounds he received in response as he let his tongue delve.

Eyelids fluttered to reveal the clearest blue. Noctis imagined the soft morning sky against star-spattered skin, his chest hitching in relief at the absence of black and eerie orange. Reaching out, he cupped Prompto's cheek and smiled as those lips started to move with his.

Prompto closed his eyes again and sighed into Noctis' mouth. Yesterday hadn't been a dream after all... Unless he still hadn't woken up? Maybe he was still stuck somewhere in the dark? Maybe his mind was broken enough to create a world trapped in endless night, to make up Noctis' absence and then fabricate a reappearance to keep him here. Maybe he was still in Gralea strapped to cold metal. Maybe he'd never left at all and this was all just something to keep him entertained while he wasted away in hospice?

He was so tired...  
  
Noctis slid a hand down his arm, finding his wrist and closing his fingers around it. Still heavy with sleep, he moved atop Prompto's body with a grunt. He pinned slender arms above Prompto's head with a gentle force as if to say; 'I'm here and I'm real,' as if the weight of his body wasn't assurance enough.

Prompto hardly moved, only to flex his fingers somewhat and test Noctis' grip.

“Do you think I'll run away?” he asked, voice dreamlike and airy. He tipped his head back as if he might look at the way Noctis had him pinned.

“Not of your own accord,” The King breathed, watching the blond's throat and the teeth marks which marred it-- a reminder. “I think there's a part of you that might try to steal you away.”

The soldier smiled then, rueful and awake now as he met the King's steely gaze. His tongue darted out to wet crooked lips, one brow raised in tired challenge. “Are you gonna chase it?” he asked. “This... thing?”

“Only to scare it off.”

“I'm not scared of you.”

“Are you scared to see the sunrise?”

“...”

Prompto's gaze darted elsewhere. He nodded, unable to look at Noctis. He couldn't tell him what was happening to him. He couldn't be the cause of anything that might make the King stray from his duty. As much as he longed to feel the sun on his skin, there was a finality which would come with the dawn, an ending to this endless spiral, among other things.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Noctis got there first.

“I won't be coming back with you and the guys,” the king said quietly.

Prompto balked, blue eyes widening. He didn't understand.

“Many sacrificed all for the King;” Noctis breathed, his voice taking on a sombre tone. Prompto's heart broke to hear it so heavy and broken.

Noctis moved one hand from Prompto's wrist so that he could touch his face, trace his lips once more with a slow swipe of his thumb.

“So the king must sacrifice himself for all.”

“But...”

Prompto's brow creased, eyes stinging. He shouldn't cry, he shouldn't make this harder for Noct. What a bittersweet revelation. There was a selfish part of the soldier that realized now he didn't have to have any qualms about his own, unavoidable expiration however he knew that whatever lied beyond this life for Noctis would most certainly not be open to him. What divine power would put a King to rest among a dying soldier from a mad, forsaken empire? Who was to say he would even be granted reprieve? Prompto felt more a product of the scourge than anything, moreso now than ever. It seemed most fitting that he just...  
  
The soldier quivered, looking up into Noctis' calm gaze and recalling his voice from a reoccurring nightmare proclaiming what Prompto knew was to be true. _He was a dying animal and he should be put out of his misery._

“...N-nevermind.” _It would be selfish to beg you to stay._ “I just--” Prompto tipped his head forward so that he could kiss the pad of Noctis' thumb. “You would have been a really good king,” he whispered. “The Six are making a mistake.” _But, I don't want to die alone._

Noctis laughed. He laughed. It was quiet and gruff, but he still cracked a smile and leaned down for another kiss.

“Let me have you one more time,” he asked. “Before we go face the world and save it.”

Prompto laughed too, but it was choked with tears he could no longer stop from spilling. Gods, he wanted to give up so badly, but here he was bound to the King and his service. Love wouldn't let him be so weak. _I'd even let you take me with you. Please take me with you._

“I'll... give the dying man one last go.”

* * *

  
Sweat dripped from Noctis' brow as he pushed himself inside, claiming Prompto's bruised lips in a ravenous kiss as he did so. He swallowed the sounds coming from the blond's sinful little mouth, then pulled away to hook his arms beneath his knees, slinging both of Prompto's legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Noctis gasped, lost in heat as he started to move, nails pressing little half-moons into freckled thighs as he folded the boy over with the force of his thrusts.

Moments before, the King's mouth had been all over him, claiming stake on milky skin while the soldier did the same. There was no way Prompto would let the king pass on without remembering him, and he saw to that with a beautiful bloom of purple and blue now standing out stark against the king's royal throat, red angry claw-marks on his royal back, blood trickling slow from where teeth had sunk into royal lips. Prompto would consume every second of time they had together, tear into it like meat and savour each drop of red, royal blood. He didn't have a place beside Noctis, but he would have a piece of him.

If he couldn't become, he would consume. He would feed that growing darkness inside of him until it killed him.

* * *

 

By the time Prompto could make out the faint glowing runes of the haven, he was exhausted. Still, he soldiered on as a soldier would do and trudged through the dry, lose earth beneath his boots. He still felt strange, outfitted as if he had belonged to something, bearing the mark on the Kingsglaive on his back. A glance to the King in his royal vestments, gold chains and adornments glinting in the moonlight, reminded him of his duty.

Before they'd left Hammerhead, Gladio had stopped the company to present them all with new clothing. Clothing that Monica and Iris had been working on since the day His Majesty had disappeared. Garments ten years in the making that had been threaded with hope, woven with the unbreakable spirit of the light, the constant flicker in their hearts.

The coat felt heavy on Prompto's shoulders and he could only imagine the weight placed upon his King.

Once inside the safety of the runes, Prompto was quick to shed his cloak and start helping Gladio set up camp and build a fire. From where they stood, Insomnia loomed close, the lights of the Citadel still on and shining through the endless night as if still occupied by the people who lived there. It was difficult to put himself in their shoes, but for Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis, this was like coming home after a long and tiring journey. To Prompto, it was the seat of his former enemies.

He didn't know what to expect once inside the Crown City, but for now he was content to flit from their packs, to Ignis' side at the stove, helping where he was needed. Carefully, he helped Noctis remove his cowl and jacket, minding Ignis' warning to use a gentle hand on the garments.

“He will sit the throne a proper king,” Ignis insisted.

“Mmm,” Noctis hummed. “I'm sure you'll somehow know if something isn't to your liking.”

“I most certainly will.”

Ignis resilience had impressed Prompto in ways he never thought possible. Even after loosing his vision, the advisor hardly skipped a beat and instead became stronger, smarter, and adapted. Prompto had spent most of the ten years away from both he and Gladio, but he could only imagine what the two had to overcome... Prompto wasn't stupid. Ignis was human just like the rest of them, but the work he had put into rebuilding was more than admirable.

Gladio pushed Prompto away from the stove with a grin on his face and a laugh just waiting behind it. “Nuh-uh, blondie. I know you're keen to help, but we all know you're a terrible cook. Let Iggy and I handle this one.”

“Fine,” Prompto jabbed back, but he was happy to take a seat beside Noct after he'd stoked the fire some. He liked watching the orange glows flicker and play off his features.

* * *

After they'd eaten, the silence stretched. Very little had been said in the first place, but now the quiet covered them like a blanket. The fire snapped and crackled on and the distant sound of daemons prowling could be heard somewhere far away.

It was Noctis who broke the silence.

“The four of us around a campfire. How long's it been?”

“Hmm. An eternity.”

“So, yeah.”

“I, umm.”

“Out with it.”

“I just--”

Prompto's expression screwed up into something uncomfortable and he leaned forward on his elbows, staring as hard as he could into the flames. He tried to block out Noctis' voice.

“Damnit. Why the hell is this so hard?”

Noctis sat up straight, finally looking at them through the unruly black wisps of hair that framed his face.  
“I've made my peace. Still... Knowing this is it, and seeing you all here, now. It's...”

Prompto didn't have to look to see that the King was crying. He could hear it in the trembling of his words.

“...More than I can take.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Prompto could see that Gladio was crying, too.

“Yeah. Damn right it is.”

“It's... Good to hear.”

Ignis spoke just as Noctis rose to his feet.

Prompto could hardly follow his friends' gazes. He couldn't look at Noctis, not while the King was pinning them all like that, his usually cool gaze clouded by tears. The blond brought his hand to his face, rubbing at his crying eyes with his forearm, unashamed.

“Well... What can I say? You guys are the best.”

* * *

 

There would have been a sunrise, had sunrises still happened. Gladio and Ignis still slept, but Prompto couldn't catch a wink. It would seem the king couldn't either as he stood at the edge of the haven's rocky slope. When he emerged from the tent, Prompto took a moment to watch him, but he hardly moved.

Quietly, Prompto zipped the tent and then crossed over to Noctis, passed the dying fire and straight to the king. On the way, he picked up his jacket from where he'd draped it over the chair, sliding it on over his shoulders to keep away the cold.

“...You're always hanging around when the sun goes down,” Noctis said softly, turning. Prompto could make it out, despite the dark, that Noctis had been crying.

“How else would I have gotten to know you?” Prompto asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek and wondering how the King had known to say that. Was the dream he had of Noctis all those years ago something more? Did the prince rescue him in more way than one?

He frowned, but Noctis had taken his hand and moved to stand behind him so that Prompto could look at the skyline.

Insomnia stood still, quiet under an ocean of stars.

“...Are you happy to be going home?” Prompto asked, feeling Noct's arms slide around his waist, his cheek nuzzling up to his temple.

“I guess, I'd rather die where I was born,” Noctis replied, his warm breath tickling Prompto's ear.

“I always thought... I'd do the same,” the gunman replied with a weak chuckle. “In a bed at the medical ward.”

The king pressed a kiss to Prompto's fair hair, palms sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. “I'm glad you made it here,” he said. “My whole life has revolved around destiny. The King of Kings, the Oracle, the Ring, the Crystal... Providence is real and I... I'm just a part of it. Even so, it's what brought us together.”

Prompto's brow furrowed and he nodded, feeling something tighten in his chest. He turned in Noctis' hold and ran his fingers over the shiny buttons on his new uniform.

“Who would've thought I would ever dress like a 'Glaive?”

He smiled, tipping his head and then reaching for Noctis' hand, feeling the weight of the ring on his finger. In one smooth motion, he dropped to one knee and rest his arm across the other, still holding on to Noctis' right hand.

“Prompto--”

The blond's smile grew and he told Noctis to shush.

“Swear me in like a proper 'Glaive, _Your Majesty_. I can't properly betray my homeland unless you do!”

Noctis shifted from one foot to the next and sighed.

“Alright. _Fine_...”

Prompto watched from beneath his fringe and patted himself on the back for a job well done. The King no longer looked as if he was going to burst into tears, but instead his cheeks were flushed for a completely different reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELP. SORRY FOR RUINING THE CAMPFIRE SCENE WITH MY BULLSHIT. THNX FOR STOPPING BY.


	13. major arcana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You said you're trapped in your body, getting deeper everyday.  
> They diagnosed you born that way, said it runs in your family.  
> Imbalanced chemical crutch, open up, swallow down.  
> You said, "remember me for me. I need to set my spirit free."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Thanks to everyone who has made it this far. I hope the ending doesn't disappoint.
> 
> I'm very sad to bring this fic to a close, but... It's time. 
> 
> I'm working on something new now over here if anyone is interested. It's a much happier AU where Prompto works at a flower shop that's been hired to make the arrangements during Noctis and Luna's wedding and it's gonna be much more light in tone than this one (but still with a healthy dose of angst) lol. So far, there's just a short prologue up, but I have most of it fleshed out already. [Click here to check it out. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9908666/chapters/22204052)
> 
> Also, I'd love to talk to everyone about FFXV headcanons, aus, whatever. If you wanna be friends, please visit me mvgitek.tumblr.com -- I'd love to meet you!

A heavy fog fell over the wasteland of what was once the great Crown City. Insomnia, home to Gladio, Ignis, and of course their prince-become-king, Noctis. Prompto picked his way over the rubble as the four of them wandered down the main road, bathed in little but the light of the pale, waning moon and stars.

The fair-haired soldier couldn't help but glance between his three companions and wonder what was going through their minds? This was the place they grew up in, their families lived here. This is where they became the closest of friends... This is where they were hoping to return to at the end of a long journey. They had all expected fanfare and celebration; the end of a too-long war.

Prompto on the other hand, had left his home without much intention of returning. He felt little attachment to the bitter cold, the constant march of military drills, tests and checkups. Prompto hadn't had the time or motivation to cultivate roots, he'd come into the world surrounded by people who knew he wasn't long for it-- so why bother? But as he picked his way through the dark streets, he couldn't help but feel a heavy sadness on behalf of his company.

In the distance, the sound of daemons prowling caught his attention. To fight or flee was the ultimate question, and Gladio seemed to think the same, for he brought himself to the front of the pack and held his greatsword out as indication for them to stop.

“What're you saying, majesty?”

Noctis frowned, glancing between his Glaive and crossing his arms over his chest. “We need to focus on what's important. No use dying in the streets biting off more than we can chew. We're heading straight for the Citadel.”

“Excellent,” Ignis agreed, and Prompto smoothed his thumb over the safety of his pistol, just in case.  
  
The party made good time picking their way through the streets, avoiding conflict with daemons where they could. Prompto picked off a few rogue Magitek soldiers with his bullets when they got too close, unable to stop the rising turmoil in his guts; the way the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he watched the darkness seep out from cracks in their armour as they fell. He imagined slicing himself open and watching the same spectacle.

It took them a few hours to cross the massive expanse of the capital, the Citadel looming overhead the entire time. Occasionally, Noctis or Gladio would point out the ruin of some building, park, or landmark to reminisce, and although their words were laden with happy nostalgia, the sadness weighing on each syllable was just as great.

The gates of the Citadel were now just a few feet away. The four of them took cover behind a fallen Imperial drop ship to watch a great behemoth prowling the main square, effectively guarding the gate.

“Of course,” Prompto almost whined, sighing heavily and cracking open a box of bullets.

“C'mon, blondie, it's not any bigger than the one we fought in Duscae,” Gladio teased.  
  
“It's definitely in our way,” Noctis mused.

“No rest for the wicked,” Ignis lamented. “Now, if it's anything like Gladio says, we'll simply employ the same strategies we've used in the past. It's been ten years, but I still believe we shouldn't have any trouble fighting together.”

“Well, that's only if Noctis listens to instructions,” Prompto teased as he lift his head to look over the side of the ship, resting his arm on the edge and lining up his sights. Once he was happy with the shot, he nodded to the rest of the group.

“If anything, I should be the one giving orders. I'm the King,” Noctis huffed, calling his father's sword to him in a bright display of blue. Then, with a grunt of effort, he lobbed it over their cover and dissipated, a cursory spark of sapphire light in his wake.

* * *

“Here Noct, you should elevate it.”

The chair legs scraped against the floor as Gladio brought it up to the side of the bed so that Noctis could rest his leg on it. The King winced, tugging up his pant leg to inspect the damage.

“It's nothing a few potions can't take care of,” he said through grit teeth, just as Ignis brought over their supply bag and set it down on the bed.

“Yes, luckily.”

During the battle, there was a bit of a slip and Noctis' ankle had gotten in the way of the behemoth's great jaws. Luckily, Prompto had acted quickly and fired a bullet straight into the loathsome beast's eye, providing enough distraction for Gladio and Ignis to take it down completely. The company had found a small rest area beneath the streets, coming off of the subway line, apparently used by workers who ran the trains overnight.

Noctis leg was a mess of torn fabric and blood, but the wound wasn't too deep, he just needed medicine and rest.

“Maybe it's a good thing,” Prompto suggested, “getting a bit of shut-eye before the final battle and all.” He sat down on the bed beside Noctis while Ignis applied the potion and together with Gladio they wrapped the wound. Noctis sighed, leaning back on the pillows Prompto had propped up for him and closed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

They all knew that Noctis could sleep anywhere, so while the King dozed off, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto helped themselves to some food from their supply pack and took the opportunity to shed their heavy cloaks and put their feet up.

“Out like a light,” Gladio rumbled fondly, shaking his head at the sleeping king as he took a chair beside Ignis.

“Some things don't change, even when you're moments away from a kingly ascension,” Ignis counselled with a deep nod.

Prompto's shoulders shook while he chuckled, and he sank down into his own seat when he realized how exhausted he was from the journey here. It'd been a long time since he'd exerted himself like this, and both Gladio and Ignis knew it. He could tell now that he felt their weighted silence, Gladio watching him intently and with concern.

“Prompto--” Ignis said first, but was cut off when the gunman raised his hand.

He knew what he looked like, he knew he'd lost weight. He knew his expressions were punctuated by the black circles beneath his eyes. His throat felt dry and scratchy, each breath he took tasting like bile and causing his bones to ache.

“In the pack,” he said, nodding wearily. “I was saving it.”

Gladio got up and rummaged through their supplies one more time, producing a hard case which bore the Imperial Sigil. Opening it up, the Shield found one last vile of pure darkness, a capped syringe, a tourniquet, and some gauze. His jaw tightened and he snapped the case closed before crossing the room.

“Tell me how to do it,” Gladio asked, pulling up his chair beside Prompto.

“It's not that difficult,” Prompto breathed, voice heavy with gratefulness as he looked between Gladio and Ignis. He felt so... undeserving of their unconditional acceptance, their opinion of him just as important as Noctis'.

Ignis took Prompto's free hand and allowed him to squeeze tightly while the gunman guided Gladio with a shaking voice. Eventually, he had to drop his head back against the wall and brace himself for what was to come.

The shield was there just as fire started to burn in Prompto's veins. He clamped one hand over the gunman's snarling mouth and the other gripped his shoulder, forcing him to stay seated in the chair. He watched the whites of his eyes bleed black, a wild and painful expression crossing conflicted features.

Ignis hushed him, holding onto his hand as tightly as he could until he felt him go limp. All at once, the heat left Prompto's body in one deep exhale, eyelids fluttering as he groaned beneath Gladio's hand.

The Shield removed his grip and Prompto slumped forward slightly, Ignis still holding him to make sure he stayed seated upright. Dazed, he blinked up at the two with a lazy, contented smile. “Feels better,” he mumbled, flexing his fingers and wriggling his toes to prove to himself that he was still there; still human. That should be enough to get him through this, so that he could see Noctis take the throne with his own eyes.

“Thanks. Both of you.” He looked up, taking note of the sombre expressions both Ignis and Gladio wore. “Don't... get all sappy.” He reached for both their hands, squeezing slightly. “Save that for the King.”

He was going to miss them.

* * *

Rested and refreshed, the four now approached the Citadel. The king's hands set on the iron gates for a long, quiet moment before he pushed them open. Noctis couldn't deny how apprehensive he was, reluctant to see how Ardyn had warped and twisted the place he grew up in. This was his home, this place was where he'd experienced many of his firsts and also many of his lasts. This was the last place he'd spoken to his father... The last place he would visit on his journey to take back the dawn.

All was quiet as they stepped inside. Noctis brought his right hand up to chest level, adjusting the ring on his finger before going on any further. Flanked by his retainers, the king entered the empty courtyard, expectant of something, but not knowing what until the sound of the Chancellor's voice rang out through the large, open space.

“Ifrit, the Infernian. He doesn't share the Glacian's fondness for mankind, but you can still expect a warm welcome.”

Before their eyes, the steps up to the Citadel burst into a wall of flame, the warmth and heat blinding Noctis almost immediately. “Get back,” he cried, raising his arm to try and block out the excruciating temperature, only to be hit with a scorching blast of flame which instantly made kindling of his cloak.

“Noct!” Prompto was on him in seconds, both of them toppling to the ground while the blonde swatted out the flames and tried to help the King to his feet. “Stay down,” he instructed, “I'll keep him busy.”

Then he was off, guns blazing while Noctis stumbled towards the sound of Ignis' voice. “Majesty, over here!”

Everything happened so quickly between the sound of roaring flames and gunfire, Noctis nearly lost his footing as Gladio rushed for him, practically dragging him towards cover. “Quick, before it strikes again.”

The four of them were now huddled behind some life-saving pieces of rubble, a blast of flame and heat searing just over their backs as Ifrit raged on. Certainly, the four of them had felled Gods before, but this was different and for the first time, Noctis thought that perhaps they were up against something that they couldn't face alone. Still, he had to be brave. Ardyn and Ifrit, together they had defiled the steps where his father had spoken his final words to him.

'Walk tall,' he had said. Noctis was not about to bend the knee after coming this far, not at his father's doorstep.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and got to his feet, leading the charge against the fires of Hell.

* * *

 

_Pyreburner..._

Just when Noctis' felt as if he couldn't take it anymore, the Glacian's voice sent a welcome chill down his spine. Her frigid voice wrapped the four warriors in a blessed sheet of ice and snow, as Gentiana appeared by the King's side. Breathing in the frost, Noctis caught a second wind and stood tall beside her.

Panting, Prompto caught up with Ignis and Gladio just as the frost settled in. The three of them looked on as the King called Shiva to his side. Prompto was relived above all to see Gentiana, who had helped him along when he'd been on his own and near death back in Gralea. She'd returned to them to tip the scales of fate; the divine intervening where they could find reason to meddle. She was beautiful and merciful, dancing on the wind and silencing the blazing inferno with a deadly kiss before taking her leave.

Silently, Prompto thanked her once more, even as her voice echoed inside of their skulls.

_O, Chosen King of the Stone, restore the Light to this world._

Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto rushed to the King's side to make sure he was alright, but Prompto was the first to ask: “What did she say?”

“She told me to... bring back the light,” Noctis replied, turning towards the blond. He looked tired-- they all were, but Prompto gathered newfound strength knowing that Gentiana, Luna, and the Gods were on their side. Grinning, he slung an arm around Noctis' decorated shoulders, twirling his pistol and then pointing it towards the Citadel, lining up his sights.

“That's what we're gonna do,” he proclaimed, tipping his head so that Noctis could share the view down the barrel of his gun, so he might smile too.

* * *

“It's... all lit up still,” Gladio grunted.

Their boots echoed off of the polished marble floor of Noctis' former home while Prompto drank in the sights he'd never seen before. He tried to imagine Noctis as a child, racing through the grandiose halls and lavishly decorated rooms, leaving chaos on his wake as all children were supposed to. He could bet that Ignis and Gladio had some good stories about the young king.

“It's as if he's inviting us in,” Ignis continued.

“Yeah,” Noctis scoffed, “inviting me into my own home.”

Prompto, who'd wandered ahead in his curious fascination with Noctis' childhood home had already left the lobby and was now staring down a large set of reflective double doors. “D'you guys think the elevator still works?” He asked.

“Worth a shot.”

The four of them piled into the lift and Noctis pressed the button for the top floor. The ride up was eerily silent, with Ignis and Gladio taking up the far corner of the small space and Prompto quietly sliding one hand into Noct's. Their fingers twined, and the soldier was relived to feel Noctis squeeze gently.

They stepped outside the lift once they'd reached the top floor. Another large and beautifully decorated lobby awaited them, but what set this room apart from the others were the large murals hanging high on the walls, demanding an audience. Prompto had never grown up learning of prophecies and great kings, but from what Gladio, Ignis and Noctis had taught him, he recognized the humanoid figures as interpretations of The Six. He saw the Oracle depicted as a guiding light, the King a savour and martyr.

“Woah,” he gasped, which caused Ignis to ask if the murals still adorned the walls.

“Definitely,” Prompto replied, “they're beautiful.”

Noctis shook his head, coming up beside Prompto and sighing. “When I was little I ruined one of them,” he confessed, grinning.

“Ah, yes.” Ignis piped up. “I remember having to cover up for a certain unruly prince.”

The four of them smiled at the recollection, basking in the murals' greatness for a moment longer before the King spoke up again.

“Prompto, can I see your photos?”

The blond blinked, but nodded and handed his camera to Noctis. “S-sure thing.”

“I want one to... take with me.”

He settled on their first photo together. The four of them standing on the pier at Gauldin Quay, a more innocent time, before everything had started to fall apart.

* * *

“What the hell is this,” Noctis demanded as they stepped into the throne room.

What was once the grandest room in all the Citadel had now turned into some twisted trophy room for Ardyn and his conquests. Puppets of the King, Luna, her brother, and a soldier that Prompto didn't recognize hung in chains from the ceiling, the entire west side of the room blown open and reduced to rubble, moonlight pouring through the gaping hole.

The crystal hung suspended above the throne where Ardyn sat, sprawled over the chair with a comfort that he should not be allowed to feel. Upon seeing Noctis, his lips split into a crooked, rotten smile.

“I'm afraid you're out of luck. If the throne brings you here, it seats only one.”

“Off my chair, jester,” Noctis warned, “the king sits there.”

Languidly, Ardyn rose to his feet and stared down at the assembly from his perch, only to swiftly and suddenly bring his boot down on the throne's cushioned seat.

“Oh Noct,” the chancellor's voice was low now, a teasing rumble in his throat. “How I have waited for this. Longer than you could ever know. Tonight, the dreams of the Blood Royal come to an end.”

“Talk about a grudge,” Prompto whistled, already drawing his pistol.

“Ardyn sits the throne?” Ignis asked.

“Not for long. This is my ascension.” Noctis determined as he stepped forward, only to halt when he felt the air in the room shift. Magic, dark and powerful flew from the Accursed's fingertips, breezing past the king and striking Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto true.

Noctis' Shield and Advisor dropped to the ground, and the King whirled around. “What did you--”

The sound of metal skittering across marble made Noctis turn his attention back to his friends. Though Ignis and Gladio lay still, Prompto hadn't collapsed. Gasping and retching, he crawled forward on hands and knees, reaching for his fallen pistol with one hand and clawing at his throat with the other.

Noctis watched on helplessly, torn between going to Prompto or attacking Ardyn, watching in horror as the soldier struggled.

“Noct, I--” Prompto drew in a sharp breath and his gaze snapped upward. Eyes narrowed and covered in black, pupils casting the eerie orange glow reminiscent of daemons-- of magitek, he fixated on the King with a blank, yet hungry stare. He stumbled once, but then pushed himself onto his feet, charging the King with his pistol in hand, emptying out the clip with reckless abandon.

Noctis barely had time to react, phasing into the ether and deflecting bullets with the blunt edge of his sword. One after another they ricocheted with a high-pitched sound. “Prompto, what's wrong with you!?” He shrieked, breath heavy with the effort of keeping up his defenses.

“Oh, dear. _A lover's spat_ ,” Ardyn sang from his spot on the throne.

Prompto hardly missed a beat when his gun would no longer fire, his second pistol already in hand as he fearlessly advanced. He didn't let up, pinning Noctis to the spot, wearing him down once it became apparent that the King wouldn't fight back against him.

Eventually, Prompto was close enough to touch, (Noctis could count the freckles on his cheeks). He lowered his gun and lunged, wrestling Noctis to the ground with inhuman strength granted by the scourge humming through his veins, infecting his body and brain. Caught off guard, Noct's blade dissipated and Prompto managed to twist his arm painfully behind his back, bringing him to his knees before the throne.

“Prompto,” he grit out again, feeling the cold steel of Prompto's gun at the back of his head. “Wake _up_!”

Struggling, the king snarled in Ardyn's direction, tugging against the vice-like grip. “What did you do to him?”

Ardyn was standing at the top of the stairs now, expression brimming with both interest and satisfaction. Seeing the king knelt before his own throne was simply a delight, especially since he was put there by one of his most adoring pets-- the icing on the cake.

“Oh this? I just helped him along, Noct. Poor, dear Prompto never quite lived up to expectations, you see. But, in time... anyone can be a good solider. Even failures. Now, see? I daresay this is fitting. Everything you've felt so entitled to, everything that was meant to be yours shall now be mine, Noctis. Your ancestors took everything from me, and now I will have everything of yours. Your throne, your kingdom, your bride, and now... Now I think I will have your Imperial dog, too. After all, I did have a hand in making him the _good_ boy he is today.”

Ardyn chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

Noctis felt Prompto's grip on him loosen and the gun was pulled away from his head. The King scrambled to his feet, poised to attack Ardyn (and he would have if Prompto hadn't stepped into his peripherals). The soldier turned the pistol to his own temple, flicking the safety off and waiting. His eyes, endless black pools, fixated now on Ardyn with an almost longing expression, as if he were just a child waiting to hear the last line in his bedtime story; a soldier awaiting his next order. Noctis watched with growing, frantic horror. He couldn't put Prompto in danger, not over a fight that wasn't his to fight.

“Now, majesty. I thi--”

Ardyn didn't get to finish; within an instant, Noctis was gone, leaving blue and white sparks in his wake.

The king reappeared behind Prompto, the hilt of a short dagger colliding sharply with the side of his head. A sickening crack made his stomach lurch, but Noctis' hand remained tight around the weapon. It wasn't the most ideal solution, but Noct didn't have much choice. The most he could do was bend slightly at the knee and wave the blade off into the ether as he freed his hands to catch Prompto's limp body.

“This is about you and I, Ardyn. Prompto... shouldn't have to suffer at your hands any longer.”

He clutched the soldier's ailing frame to his chest, gently lowering him to the ground and praying to The Six he'd be alright, he'd wake up in time to see the sun rise with Ignis and Gladio.

“Well, well. I'm _impressed_ ,” Ardyn purred. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

The accursed grinned again. He honestly cared little for the defective soldier or his fate, his only real pleasure coming from getting a rise out of the now fuming king.

“But now that you're good and ready, let the games begin.”

* * *

“Ah. The Kings of yore are on hand,” Ardyn drawled, doubling over with the effort of holding up his ageless, crumbling shell of a body.

Noctis didn't give the chancellor's words the time of day, simply drew his weapon one final time, his late father's sword, and plunged it deep into the Accursed's empty chest.

“So. This is how... you would end it.”

The King watched as Ardyn crumpled to the ground, the rain still falling steadily around the two of them, washing away the dirt and blood from their skin and clothes.

“Now, it is over,” Ardyn rasped as Noctis approached. “Now, majesty. What will you do? Banish the daemons and bring peace? Erase me from history once more.”

The King frowned, steely gaze holding no remorse for the man who had taken everything from him and his friends, his loved ones. He knelt, something ugly and vindictive inside of him wanting to watch as he faded. Noctis couldn't help but think after all this, he deserved one little sin.

“This time, you can rest in peace.”

A weak, dying laugh.

“I will await you, in the beyond.”

* * *

His royal garb still heavy with rain, Noctis made his way back to the front steps of the Citadel. Even as he descended in the dark, he could see the three of them waiting apprehensively. Hopeful gazes watched their king through a curtain of rain and Noctis had to stop short. If he descended the stairs completely, if he got too close, he would never go back.

“So, this is farewell.” Ignis, always prudent was the first to speak.

“Yeah.” Noctis nodded, glancing over the three of them. His chest felt tight, but more than anything he was happy they were alive and well, grateful that Prompto was unharmed. “Here we are.”

“It's all you,” Gladiolus proclaimed with an approving nod of his head.

Noctis returned the gesture once before his gaze flicked to Prompto. He looked almost dazed, drenched with rain, fair hair slicked with black blood at the spot where Noctis had struck him earlier. When bright blue eyes finally focused on his, Noctis felt a pang of longing deep within his core. The King couldn't say anything to him, not without breaking down. Silently, he apologized for his weakness and turned away.

Something wasn't _right_. Prompto's head felt scrambled and hazy, he knew he should be feeling something, _anything_ right now. He met the King's steely gaze and searched as hard as he could for whatever it was, reaching out and grasping at a promise he had made. Willing his feet to move, Prompto started up the stairs, following Noctis without a word and not stopping his ascent even when the king turned to him in protest.

The soldier parted his lips, brow creased with conflict and confusion for a brief moment while he searched for the memory again. “Noct.” His voice sounded slow and foreign to his own ears. “I want...”

Without knowing what to do, he reached out and clutched the wet fabric of Noctis' suit, keeping him in place. “I can't... follow...” he forced the words out though it hurt to push them through his dry throat, though he was forgetting what they meant as soon as they left his lips. _Gods, why couldn't he think straight?_

He'd promised. He'd promised to follow Noctis anywhere, so why couldn't he come along? Why did he feel so empty and unfulfilled? Why was he missing a part of himself?

“Prompto,” the king was gentle, gingerly reaching out and smoothing down damp, fair hair. “Ignis and Gladio will take care of you. Go to them. Help them. Watch the sun rise at the end of it.”

In one last act of selfishness, Noctis pressed his lips to the delirious soldiers', kissing him with all the warmth he could muster.

Prompto made a little noise, twisting his fingers in soft fabric and feeling cool, wet skin against his own. “...Okay,” he breathed when they pulled away, nodding as he stepped down. It felt... good to agree; he was _happy_ to comply. Something was definitely broken inside of him, because deep down he knew this wasn't right. He knew he should have protested. He wanted to hold on to Noctis and never let him leave again.

Instead, Prompto joined Ignis and Gladio at the foot of the stairs and the three of them saw off their King with a bow.

“Gladio, Ignis... Prompto. I leave it to you. Walk tall, my friends.”

Prompto's senses ignited only when the snarl of demons beckoned at his back. He turned, pistols ready and loaded. Gladio and Ignis drew their weapons as well.

“Walk tall,” Prompto repeated, mulling over the sentiment, trying to figure out what it meant as he twirled his pistol around one finger and charged.

* * *

“Hey, over here!”

Prompto's body was on fire. Never had he felt more alive as he did now, tearing through the flesh of mindless beasts with a ferocity all his own. Feet sliding on the rain-slicked tiles, he whirled in the direction of Gladio's deep voice, coherent enough to figure out what the warrior had in mind. Grinning, predatory, the soldier ran headfirst towards him, planting his boot in folded hands so that Gladio could launch him up into the air.

Prompto's lithe body flew, and he came down easily atop the Iron Giant's great sword, gathering his footing before running swiftly up the length of the blade. From this angle, he was able to catch the stumbling beast off guard, dropping his pistols and summoning up the saw he'd kept on reserve all this time. Prompto may have not remembered how or why the weapon was significant or who had given him such a power, but he did know that he could kill with it. He could tear the life from this daemon, tooth and claw.

The three of them went on like this, Gladio and Ignis tiring while Prompto's exhaustion only spurred the wild, feral hunger within him. However, all things had to end and finally, the night was beginning to fade. To the east, the sun began to rise and the daemons began to shy away.

“He did it,” Ignis shouted. Obviously the rosy sky and fading stars hadn't been any indication for him, but the fact that his weapon had vanished without a trace meant it was over. The King had passed.

“Yeah,” Gladio panted. “He really...” The now former shield brought a hand up to his face as if to block out the first few rays of sunlight. It'd been ten whole years, and so, he was sure that his eyes hadn't adjusted yet. With a smile, he glanced to Ignis and asked. “Can you feel it at all?”

The advisor nodded, removing his glasses to wipe away the dampness on his cheeks.

Spent, Prompto dropped his pistols to the ground and glanced around wildly, as if unsure of what was happening. He looked at Ignis, then Gladio, taking hesitant steps towards them before finding himself suddenly unable to move. Blinded by pain and the smell of searing flesh, he screamed. The sound torn from his throat was unholy, inhuman.

“ _Gladio_ ,” Ignis called and in seconds the two of them were at Prompto's side.

“Get him out of the sun,” the advisor hissed, counting on the larger man to get them all inside the walls of the Citadel.

Prompto hissed and clawed at whatever skin he could reach until his back hit cool marble floors. The pain was excruciating, and he writhed and wailed, gripping the spots on his shoulders where the sun had touched, digging his nails into the charred skin as if a greater pain would distract from his current ailment.

“N-Noctis,” he managed to choke out. The pain had smacked him upside the head, brought him back to his senses. He realized all at once that Noctis had ascended to the throne room to die and Prompto had barely even kissed him back. He was horrified, disgusted with himself and whatever it was he'd let himself become. Prompto knew it now, he was no better than an MT, a daemon, a product of the darkness Noctis had fought so hard to eradicate. He screamed as his body contorted in pain and anguish. “Noctis. Noctis...! I have to... I... Nnng...”

Gladio and Ignis exchanged a look before they each grabbed one of Prompto's arms and hauled him to his feet. “Alright, blondie,” Gladio said softly, as if the nickname would diffuse the situation. “We're gonna get you to Noct. Hold on.”

* * *

By the time they reached the throne room, Gladio was carrying an exhausted, weakly sobbing Prompto and Ignis walked at their side, murmuring small encouragements to the boy.

“Highness...” Gladio barely breathed, pausing once they'd reached the throne. The sight at the top of the stairs was almost unbearable, and yet... The King looked peaceful in his eternal sleep.

Gladio put Prompto down and averted his eyes, hardly able to look at the scene before them, even as the blond clambered up the stairs.

Ignis, almost glad for his lack of sight out a hand on the larger man's shoulder,

“Gladio, we should--”

As much as he didn't want to go near the throne, the man nodded and moved to help Ignis get Prompto up the stairs. They stayed out of the light as best they could, stopping once when Prompto buckled and heaved, black spilling from his lips.

“You... gu-guys,” he was struggling to speak, but at least he was coherent now. “T-this is so... _fucked up_ , but I... Nnn...”

“T-these were the best... best years of my... my li-life. I'm... I'm... o-okay. It's okay.”

At the top of the stairs, Prompto wriggled out of Ignis' and Gladio's grip, weakly raising a hand in a goodbye salute before stumbling towards the throne. His vision blurred and dotted with black, but his heart felt so warm and so full. For the first time in a long time there was no more pain. He could finally think clearly, he was awake and alert. He couldn't wait to tell Noctis all about what it felt like to be free.

Gladio didn't want to look, so he tugged Ignis closer to him and hid his face in tawny hair.

* * *

“...There's nothing biting,” Noctis sighed to himself. He pursed his lips and reeled in the line, watching as the thin material cut through the otherwise still waters like a knife. The moon reflected on the surface of the water, as if the entire pool was a mirror. Around the king, crickets chirped and fireflies lit up the grass in yellow light that might as well have been from the stars. In the distance, Insomnia stood proudly on the horizon.

Giving up, he stood and as he did the silence was broken by footsteps. A warm hand on his shoulder followed and he turned to face its owner.

“Noctis, the sun is coming up. Shall we greet it?”

The Lady Lunafreya smiled, her radiance beaming through such a simple gesture and Noctis couldn't help but smile too. He smoothed down his black, button up shirt, setting his hands on Luna's delicate waist and placing a kiss atop the crown of her head.

“I think so.”

* * *

 

Prompto woke up to darkness first. Then, the dark gave way to starlight just before the moon made herself known on the horizon. The sky, pink and purple where it touched the ground beckoned him forward through the endless sea of green grass, tall trees, and blue flowers, bending gently in the breeze.

“Hello, darling.”

Lady Luna's hand slid easily into his, warm and comfortable, familiar. He flushed at the nickname and shrugged his shoulders. He wouldn't have called himself anyone's darling.

Still, it was nice coming from Luna, especially when she smiled at him.

Prompto swung their hands a little, back and forth.

“Where am I going this time?” he asked.

Luna didn't answer, simply pressed one finger to her pale lips and lead on. Prompto would've been frustrated by her clandestine nature if he didn't feel so calm here. So, he helped her over the uneven terrain like anyone would, the two of them finally reaching the end of the treeline. From here, Prompto could see Insomnia and the beginnings of a sunrise over a large, clear lake.

“Pretty,” he commented, offering a smile which she returned. Having been so distracted by the sun, Prompto couldn't see exactly what stood before it, but then again it was hard to differentiate two things that were one in the same. When he looked away from Luna once more, Prompto saw the outline of him, a figure dressed still in black, waiting.

“Come now. He's been very patient,” Luna urged, bringing Prompto out of his dazzled state and beckoning him forward.

The Oracle smiled, taking Noctis' hand and placing it in Prompto's, glancing between the two of them, clearly very pleased. Brilliant pink and orange filled up the sky around them.

Blue eyes still had trouble adjusting to the light, but that didn't stop Noctis from tugging him close, wrapping an arm around his waist and taking his chin with his other hand. “Hey,” he breathed, pressing their lips together.

Prompto didn't hesitate, he took everything he could, memorizing how Noctis was here and now. More than a king, something bigger, something greater. He kissed him warmly, sadly, happily, pouring everything he had into the other man, weak in his arms. Prompto would have kissed him for eternity if he could, and then with a fleeting burst of joy he realized now that he _did_ have eternity. This was his new forever. This was he, and Noct, and Luna. This was the dawn at the end of the very, very dark night.

“You made it.” Noctis breathed against his lips as they finally parted, touching his face and tracing his jaw with his thumb. When Prompto sniffed, the king simply sighed and offered a teasing little smile. Of course Prompto would cry.

“Yeah, well... I had some help.”

Prompto stepped back slightly and glanced to Luna, throwing caution to the wind and putting his free arm around her slender waist. “Thank you,” he whispered, knowing that the Oracle must have worked some sort of magic to keep him here, to fix him, to make him good enough.

“Whatever for?” She asked in reply, pressing a kiss to Prompto's temple. Thanking _him_ for keeping Noctis on the path.

The King was elated. Here and now with two people he loved so much, content and confident in the new world that Ignis and Gladio would capably build. Everything was as it should have been, it seemed.

“Shall we go home?” he asked, glancing towards the city on the horizon, the warmth of the Citadel beckoning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING/COMMENTING/KUDOS-ING. I LOV EYOU GUYS. WALK TALLLLL!


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